To prevent stir-craziness, I have decided to provide you lovely people with a daily blog during my current period of incarceration. If it is, at times, less than coherent, it's probably linked to the significant quantities of opiates I am consuming in an attempt to stave off The Pain

Today, I thought I would introduce you to a particularly unique cell-mate of mine. To protect the identity of the not-so-innocent, let's call her 'Jean'.

Jean has been in here for several weeks... she broke various bones which led, in ways which are unclear, to extensive bowel surgery. I know all about this, in intimate detail, because she has told me the whole sorry tale. About 49 times. In intimate detail.

Jean has a particularly warm way of welcoming new arrivals to the bay. This involves her staring menacingly at them for several minutes before barking 'Oi! What's wrong with you, then?' The unfortunate newcomer is then faced with the dilemma of whether to pretend they haven't heard or to divulge their medical issues to a complete stranger. If they choose the latter option, her immediate irritated response of 'yer what?' soon reveals that she is hard of hearing, hence they then have to shout their medical history at the entire ward in an attempt not to appear rude. She also appears to have some degree of short term memory loss as she will often pose the same gentle question again around an hour later. And again an hour later. And again.... you get the picture.

The other thing you need to know about Jean is that she has not cracked a smile the entire time I have been here. Life appears to be a pretty joyless experience for her and she is determined to ensure that everyone around her shares her state of mind.

My initial reaction was one of a degree of sympathy (once a social worker.... ) and I made her the odd cuppa, picked up things she had dropped etc. However, this approach soon backfired when she decided that I was her personal lady-in-waiting. I would be lying on my bed, reading, crying in pain or even sleeping, when the cry would come: 'Oi, Carol/Suki/Pretty/Whatsername (a selection of the random names/words she has called me), pour me a drink/sort out my pillows/look at me foot/call the nurse/lend me yer phone' etc etc. Magic xxxxing Word?!?!!?

Jean likes to keep abreast of everyone's business on the ward. To make eye contact, or to walk past her bed, is to invite an interrogation on any number of subjects. Her bed is near the bathroom and she will frequently ask 'what you been doing?' as you leave. I have generally declined to answer that particular question.

She also has an insatiable curiosity about others' visitors which can start some time before actual visiting hours. You might be doing a crossword or listening to music and the intrusive questioning will start: 'you got visitors this afternoon? ... who's coming? .... where's your husband?' etc etc. If you are foolish enough to share any information at all, she will keep a check on the progress of your planned social engagement. Afternoon visiting is 2.30pm to 4pm. Yesterday, at 2.31pm precisely, she started: 'Thought you had visitors coming!'. 'Er, yes, I'm sure they're on their way'.
2.40pm: 'They not coming then?' 'Er, yes, there's a while to go yet'.
3pm: 'Doesn't look like they're coming, does it?'
Facepalm.

If she is nosey and demanding with me, this is nothing compared to what the poor staff have to deal with. She is remarkably consistent in her approach to dealing with all NHS staff. Nurses, Doctors, OTs, Physios, Health Care Assiatants, Phlebotomists: all are equally hated and all treated with similar disdain. After being obnoxious and confrontational to their faces, she then sneers at their backs as they walk away, in a manner reminiscent of the delightful Catherine Tate 'Nan'. At least, I suppose, there is no duplicity, rather a refreshing consistency to her vileness.

After 5 days of enforced observation of her behaviour, I have also noticed that she reserves a particular brand of vitriol for any Black or Asian staff. Which maybe sums up just what a thoroughly charming person she is. I witnessed a young black HCA, shattered at the end of a gruelling night shift, leaving her bedside in tears yesterday morning. In my half-asleep state, I didn't clock what was going on quickly enough to intervene. Trust me, I am biding my time...

Another remarkable aspect of Jean's personality is her quite impeccable timing. She has a particular fondness for loudly demanding - and loudly using - the bedpan while the rest of us poor unfortunates are still eating our tea. I jest you not. Shoot me now.

Our NHS: that brilliant concept of universal healthcare which our current administration seem hell-bent on dismantling. And then there are people like our Jean who cannot show even a basic level of respect for the people who are caring for them and appear to take all of it absolutely for granted. They won't know what they've got til it's gone.... (cue for a song?)

This all saddens me. It also saddens me that there is no gin available here. Despite my increasingly desperate pleas, friends and family have failed miserably to smuggle any in to me. Ah well, any port in a storm: pass the Oramorph. Cheers!