Monday, 2 November 2009

Gavin: Day 84...

EDIT: Zoe and I posted this and the one below at the same time. Strangely, we were both thinking along the same lines hence the crossover in content (internet speak for 'what it's about').

Being in a hospital for 12 weeks is a bit like a depressing version of Big Brother. You see the same tired faces every day and get to know their habits. Those who don't wash up after themselves, those who think it's acceptable to walk around barefoot in nightclothes mid afternoon (it isn't) and those who want to share every detail of their child's progress and know all about yours. It's this bunch that aggravate me the most as frankly, Sonny is our business and no one else's. I appreciate that sentence is thick with irony considering I'm blogging about him, but you know what I mean. Conversations with this lot are very one sided as I neither give anything away ("he's ok" is ambiguous enough to be read either way) or show any sympathy to their plight (harsh, but we're all on a cancer ward for a reason). Most want details so they can play a weird version of Top Trumps (Top Lumps if you like) where they can gauge their sorrow against yours and decide if they're better or worse off. Surprisingly, most seem to want to be worse off, refusing to let any good news brighten their day. When a dad told me he was going home I beamed for him and told him how great that was: "only 5 more years to go then" he sighed. Miserable bastard.
Strangely, Zoƫ thinks this is 'normal', people are simply 'being nice' and having 'conversations'. She's pointed out that it's only me who seems to have a problem with the others and they continue to get on famously with one another. This could be right, but I'll keep having fake conversations on my mobile when I'm out of the room just to be sure.

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