Low life
A bit of hell on earth
Jeffrey Bernard
not disturb those with bronchial troubles.
I had a dear old friend who was 76 and rapidly dying of cancer in Mytton Ward. The day before he died, he was refused by the charge nurse to drink a small bottle of Guinness. My own experience consisted of being written up for 50 units of pethidine and a cocky, know-all nurse called Farida refused to let me have more than 25 units as she said that in `her judgment' that was enough. Judging other people's pain must be an entirely new technique and I am sure that I could judge quite exactly the amount of pain inflicted on her by a Moroccan cane.
Oddly enough, there is another nurse on that ward with Moroccan origins. Both of them lack compassion. But for the most part the Middlesex is now crawling with people dressed in ordinary civilian clothes. You can tell them from the visitors because they have worse taste. I told them on the telephone last night in all seriousness that I will discontinue dialysis unless they can dis- continue my pain, insomnia and skin irrita- tion.
The franchised food, most of it pre- cooked I fancy, has got so bad I am eating out as much as possible, which is to say I am sending out for sandwiches etc. There seems to come a point in a young nurse's life when caring at all is something that goes out of the window. Yesterday I was so desperate I phoned up a place called the Palliative Care Centre and they are coming along to see me later this morning.
I have more faith in pain killers, even when they're dished out by stupid nurses, than I have in any cure for skin irritation other than being unconscious. A doctor who once struck me as being very bright and up-to-date told me quite openly that the medical profession generally does not understand very much about itching. I sometimes stop and wonder if being a woman leaves one more open to horrid susceptibilities.
Being able to smoke while having dialysis would make it more bearable but then some lunatic would set fire to the oxygen. As it is, I am following the French method adopted by smokers particularly in Paris where there are a growing number of notices forbidding one to smoke. Simply ignore them. Pipes in restaurants and on aeroplanes I draw the line at and the same goes for cigars, but if a man can't take a Woodbine with him to his death then there is, indeed, a bit of hell on earth.
Even the tea in hospital is now of the instant powdered variety and however ill I am I always remember to take decent tea bags with me and as near to plenty of money as is available. Not long ago I got Vera and a friend to take me round the corner to the Etoile for lunch. Elena was her wonderful self as usual and even the bill was painless compared to the scalpel in the loin. God knows where local anaesthet- ic flies to but it doesn't seem to hang around for long.
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