It’s now September.

I’m still incarcerated with no sign of parole.

Every now and then I get a visitation. It could be a solo visitor or a bunch [what is the collective word for a bunch of doctors? a stethoscope? An enema?]. I had two such visits this morning before I was even awake properly. Firstly a brace of them appeared and started photographing my neck. They were from “Plastics” [i.e. plastic surgery] which is one of the many groups that like tormenting me. Anyhows, as they were leaving I stopped them and asked them what the story was. They told me I was progressing well [they all say that] but that I might need a skin graft. Fuck! You don’t get them as an out patient.

Then I had another chap call. I think he was from ENT [Ear Nose and Throat you idiot] but he wasn’t very cheerful either. I’m not even sure why he dropped by. Was he checking to make sure I hadn’t escaped?

So having been told I would be out by the weekend, several weekends have passed. Maybe I should have asked which weekend?

In the meantime I have just been lying here watching other inmates patients come and go. I am here nearly seven weeks now [it feels like seven years] so I have seen quite a few comings and goings. So far I have outlasted them all. There have been a few interesting characters.

There was a chap with no legs and no voice. Strangely I got on with him the best – he was very chatty for a bloke who had to write down everything he had to say.

There is a Russian here at the moment. Actually he’s from Latvia [or Lithuania?] but he sounds Russian so the air is full of Cyrillic when his mates call or he’s listening to something on his phone.

There was a bloke opposite me who probably lasted the longest at over a week. He was a rabid Christian and is praying for me. He had loads of visitors and you could they were all from the same church. They’re all praying for me too. He spent his time tapping away at his iPad when he wasn’t chatting on one of his phones.

Then there was the bloke who decided to make a run for it. As he was stark bollock naked at the time that caused a bit of a ruckus.

So I sit and wait. I’m not quite sure what I’m waiting for though. Occasionally I’m granted a little bit of excitement. A few days ago I was whisked off to have a Swallow Test. This transpired to have nothing to do with birds and everything to do with x-rays. I am saturated with x-rays having lost count of the chest ones. Anyhows for this test I had to eat and drink stuff while they beamed my head full of x-rays, If I get cancer I can foresee a nice little court case…. Dammit I already have cancer! Scrub that idea.

Another little wheeze they dreamed up was to put cannulas in both arms and then hook me up to two hatstands, one containing yet more antibiotics and the other a blood transfusion. Someone realised that I had lost two litres of blood during the operation and they decided to replace some. I am mystified as to why it took so long to realise this. Surely the great pool of blood on the operating theatre floor would have been a hint?

So I am lying here now listening to country music [not my choice] and enjoying other people’s visitors.

Here comes Nice Nurse to take my blood pressure for the umpteenth time.

It’s always the same pressure.

Little changes.