Have Gown – Will Travel

Part of my routine each morning is reading the Times and Sunday Times on my tablet. I particularly enjoy reading the views of the columnists, especially Jeremy Clarkson who doesn’t give a flying fig who he offends, and Rod Liddle who is more right-wing than Stanley Matthews on a sloping pitch.

 

But it was another journalist, Ann Treneman’s column that caught my eye the other day. Sadly she lost her husband after a short illness recently, and was writing about her personal experiences. One phrase really struck a cord:

 

When someone is very ill, the world gets small.

 

Never were truer words written. Think about it. When life is ticking along nicely, the world is a big place with distant exciting horizons. You plan holidays, social events, buying a new television, decorating the spare room, even moving home etc. But when you or a loved one is ill all those things are forgotten. Your world becomes tiny. You worry about taking your medication on time, getting to the loo, and having the TV remote when you settle down on the settee along with your phone, iPad and Kindle as it’s such a faff getting up again.

 

It’s not just metaphorically either. You can’t travel far when you are sick, especially by foot, so your physical world becomes restricted too. But that doesn’t mean just sitting on your arse all day every day. Nowadays patients are encouraged to get up and out of bed, take a few baby steps as soon as physically possible post-op, and I certainly subscribe to that view, and needed no encouragement when I was in hospital last week.

 

Within a day or so of my operation, just as I had when I was in the Royal Sussex in November, I was taking regular slow walks up and down the corridor of the ward in my jimmys, slippers and dressing gown (that we packed by mistake from a recent trip to Ireland). It’s amazing how friendly everybody is; everyone will smile and say hello, without exception. Try doing that on your local High Street, speaking to everyone you encounter on your morning constitutional and even just saying hello, and you’d probably end up getting arrested.

 

“Morning nurse.”

 

“Morning Bill, off for a stroll again? Nice gown by the way. ‘Fota Island Hotel and Spa,’ where is that?”

 

“Cork, in Ireland. I didn’t nick it by the way…. my wife did.”

 

“How many laps are you doing today?”

 

“Dunno, see how the mood takes me, might even go off piste and check out the kitchens, make sure there’s no dodgy ingredients going in the lasagna……”

 

So here’s a top tip for you singles out there, don’t go wasting your money on Tinder or any of those dodgy dating apps, just get yourself a pair of fluffy slippers, some pyjamas and a dressing gown, and go for a stroll up and down a random hospital ward. Maybe not one where they treat contagious diseases, but you’ll get my drift. No one can resist stopping for a chat, believe me, and there are plenty of pretty nurses. Or handsome doctors, if that’s your preference.

 

I’m back home now, have been since Sunday, early days still, and my world remains limited. Walking is a tad difficult (did I mention that Gucci also fixed a hernia for me while he was rooting about last Tuesday, a bit of a Brucie bonus?).  I’m venturing out for short daily walks though, with the Blonde’s assistance, weather permitting, and pushing a bit farther each day. There is a Tracker device on my car, with an app on my phone that tells me it is parked 63m from our front door. That’s as far as I managed on day one, to the car (and back of course). On day two we got to the bench at the end of Chichester Terrace, a short breather and back. On day three I got half way down Arundel Terrace and back, a bit further each day. Eventually, and not before too long I hope, I’ll get to the end of Arundel Terrace and turn left, go another 100m to a cracking pub called the Daddy Longlegs, where I’ll need to take a break, maybe enjoy a refreshing cold pint of Moretti and walk back.

 

Fancy that, a stroll to a pub. That’ll really be breaking through the glass ceiling and then there’ll be no stopping me. It’s a big old world out there.