After more than a month of hospital food and gift baskets, Wesley Botton's thoughts go back to his childhood diet of rabbit stew. Picture: Wesley Botton
There’s a lady here named Chante.
She’s very sweet but she seems to suffer from debilitating paranoia. Chante, who is on dialysis, walks facing the wall so the hospital cameras don’t follow her (I don’t think they even work) and she likes to cover her face with her mask while she stands in corners.
She wants to return to her animal sanctuary where she can be with her bunnies. She says they’re comforting.
I told her I like bunnies too. I didn’t tell her we lived on a rabbit farm when I was a kid and rabbit tastes a lot like chicken.
One of the guys in the room next to us passed away overnight. I went to give him a few biscuits and someone else was in his bed.
Frans told me the bad news.
We’re not sure what caused his death, but Lionel had been in extreme pain the last few days and he didn’t get much attention.
He was a pleasant man and it was a horrific experience hearing him cry for help. I hope he can now find some peace in his eternal rest.
Michael, who is six years older than me, keeps calling me “oom” and it rattles my brain.
In a desperate attempt to reassure myself, I figure only one thing makes sense. He doesn’t know what “oom” means.
Darian, meanwhile, has gone home fully kitted with a new shoulder, some staples and pins.
He must now prepare for chemotherapy, but he’s a strong chap and he’ll be okay.
And a social worker visited Frans. She says she’s going to help him kick the hospital staff into gear so he can get the assistance he needs. We had a mini celebration after she left. Finally some promising news 🙂
I’m still trapped in limbo with my mangled toe.
The doctors said yesterday they wanted to do a skin graft, but one of them suggested they wait a few more days to give the tissue a chance to granulate sufficiently.
So my patience must be stretched a little further.
On the positive side, if I do have another op I can lean on something my uncle once told me after I fell and scratched my leg.
“Don’t worry Wes,” he said with a wink.
“Chicks dig guys with scars.”