Between Sips

Working in a hospital for a year with half an hour for lunch and a cup of double of espresso. 


20 Aug 2007


Falling asleep next to a cup of double espresso amid the madness that is the lunchtime concourse at Addenbrooke's.
Fat people, people with large and XL breasts, wheelchaired people with ginger hair, tall, bold, smartly dressed, purposefully striding people. The florist, her plain, baby blue tee shirt in sharp contrast to the gaudy floral display  behind her.  First sip.
A small shot of wakefulness reaches my brain but not enough to engage it fully. A man in a blue shirt and khaki slacks walks past holding a baguette sandwich slightly ahead of him as if it is a weapon. Coming towards him, two men walk past, one of them wearing a black shirt and an apron. He carries a banana in an unoffensive manner. He is saying something to this friend. I wish I could hear what. Second sip.
Two young women had been stood chatting by the ATM machine when a young man approached them. Suddenly, a young Darryl Hannah look-alike wearing a nurses uniform walks by. Stop. Check coffee. Check self. Awake. I think. Deep breath. Life is a such a movie, sometimes. Third sip.
This one lingers for a while before sliding inexorably downwards. The young man has moved few paces away from the ATM but he is still talking to one of the women. The other has disappeared. Maybe into the shop? Maybe they are chatting while she waits for her friend to buy lunch? Why isn't he buying her lunch? That would be a sensible thing to do if he wants to get in with her. Some other woman has joined them now. Young man is polite but clearly cannot wait for the intruder to leave. Oh!! Got it all wrong! The young man leaves with the new woman and the young woman he'd been chatting to goes off on her own. What is that all about?
A clutch of kitted out medical staff sails by. Nurses, doctors, technicians. Green scrubs are worn here, amongst us dirty outsiders, a germ infested mass of potential death. Why are they allowed?!?! Delayed sip.
Deep breath. Thinking back, on the bus journeys to work, there are always nurses already wearing their uniform. So wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Fourth sip.
Another enormoboobed lady walks past. Walking behind her, a young woman pushes a pram with her small child in it. The child has blond hair. Cute. They are followed by a couple of suits who in turn are followed by more nurses uniforms. The cadence of the step must not be interrupted. They all move as if on some surreal cue - ta dam ta da di dam ta dam ta da di dam... Maintenance staff in radiation green tee shirts waddle through this carefully orchestrated circular motion of passers by, oblivious to the rules. They never apply to them. Fifth sip.
I let that one linger too. Reluctant to reach the end of the caffeinated bliss. If I slouch in my chair, only heads of people can be seen behind the white plastic screen. It looks like some sort of disembodied head bobbing puppet theater. Most of the times it's just the very tops of heads that can be seen, little mounds of keratin floating by; glossy blonds, oily blacks, receding brunettes (mousy doesn't pluralise as well). Sixth sip.
That was the last one. I'll have to get going soon. An oriental looking man in pale green shirt coat walks in the shop carrying a bag. He wears glasses. He buys a yogurt. I wonder if he is from the Philippines. I don't know why I wonder that. I'm not good at telling Asians apart, to my shame. Time to go now.


31 Aug 2007


The man at the coffee place gave me a double espresso but charged me for single. He insisted! I had the correct change but had handed him less by mistake. He must have thought I didn't have enough. He even gave me change. Possibly more than he should have done. I am confused. Then again, I'm told my hair looks nice today. Perhaps, that's why.
There had been an IV bag poking over the edge of the screen when I first sat down but has now disappeared. The queue at the ATM is unusually large, I wonder if it's broken again. Large man with belly full of beer and orange food is wearing a checkered short sleeved shirt. His hair is grey but he doesn't look old. First sip.
There aren't usually a lot of black people around but I've just spotted one. A young woman, possibly works here judging by her purposeful stride. A lot of people stride purposefully around here. Young doctor, well dressed, stethoscope around his neck, just sped past my station. His belly is beginning to show. Too many long hours and not enough exercise, perhaps. Second sip.
Aha! Spotted another black lady. She is smiling and waiting in the queue for the ATM that refuses to cough up. She is wearing a long white cotton overcoat that looks like it's made from hospital bed sheets. Staff.
Emergency services man walks into the shop. I know because they wear bottle green top to bottom and yellow epaulets. The flower girl is wearing a frilly pink top today. It's helping her blend in with the flowers better. Good choice. Men in dark blue overalls. What do they do? I wish there was a chart or something to look them up. Third sip.
Another bouncy breasted female struts past. Yet another one loiters aimlessly near the flower shop. Females are forever attracted to pretty, nice smelling things. They don't even know why or are aware of it.
Tall blond grey haired man in dark tee shirt walks by while his overweight, frizzy-haired, flushed partner half leans on him. For moral support presumably. A very tall, white haired, well dressed man staggers by, adjusting his college tie. Must be a professor. Don't you think? A plumber/electrician/something walks by hanging onto a bare baguette in his tool box. As he passes the lot sat on the other side of my screen  he says, "Food is for wimps." Fourth sip.
A woman with bleached blonde highlights wears a faded denim jacket and a jaded expression. She is passed by two young, thin, pretty girls going in the opposite direction. Fifth sip.
The big bellied man in checkered shirt is back. He wears glasses atop his sunken eyes. The glasses don't hide the big dark circles. He carries a bag.
Chav kids are settling down on the other side of my screen. His hair is glistening with grease. She has a plastic hairband holding her hair back and is wearing skin tight jeans. Sixth sip.
A tall, lean girl wearing a lime green jumper and carrying a small knapsack walks into a shop. (Not a beginning of a joke). Her chestnut brown hair is tied back into a tidy bun and she exudes neatness and energy. What could be her reason for being here? Another chav looking girl walks past carrying a white bag uncomfortably similar to mine. That guy from finance walks past. What's his name?
In the three seconds I pause to think, twenty people walk by. Sixth sip.
A blonde woman with pale over-applied complexion wears a polkadot silk blouse and a long double string of pearls. A bit overdressed? A man with wild bush for hair walks by at the far side. He is neatly dressed and stands erect but his hair is reminiscent of a stray birds nest walking around perched atop a regular person's shoulders. Seventh sip.
The selling stand is selling tools today. A very tall young man with blond hair and Buddy Holly glasses is wearing a dark blue parka. He has joined the queue at the ATM. Another black man, staff again, walks past. He is eating a banana. His skin is deep velvety black. It looks as if your fingers would fall into the softness if you were to touch him.
Turquoise scrubs. What are they for? On the way back I meet Steven Crays. I say meet but it would be more accurate to say that our paths cross. I see him most often, either on the way to the concourse or on the way back. Steven Crays is over six feet tall with a bony, square shouldered frame that in spite of its stiff erectness somehow conveys the impression that the person inhabiting it is folded in on itself, perhaps under the weight of some unseen burden. He walks steadily, his pace slowed by the visible burden of his laptop case in the right hand and gaping canvas bag in the left. Dark grey suit is covered with a dark blue waterproof jacket, its hood wonky, about to skip off the left shoulder. We look at eachother briefly at the traffic lights, me giving a quick smile in acknowledgment of that one time couple of years back when I attended a management course and he had just joined as the new, vibrant, full of energy R&D Director.  He, pale, gaunt, glancing at me in a semi-puzzled incomprehension, as if he ought to know me but cannot think why. My presence another item to add to his list of worries. Yes. I remember it clearly. I was then just months away from my nervous breakdown, tense, tearyeyed, angry, tired. I had thought, how sad that this man is trapped here with us, clearly clueless as to the fate that awaits him. Bright eyed, spewing off visions of brighter future to the jaded, overworked, stressed out people that looked at him with eyes that said, "I'll see you in couple of years, see how enthusiastic you are then." And here I am, couple of years later. Full of life and energy and hope, bouncing down the street along this shell of a man, mission accomplished.




8 Sept 2007

Today I'm on the other side, the one facing the coffee shop. It's double espresso day. It's muggy and oppressive outside and inside it's just as bad. Neon lights and artificial heat from the coffee machine aren't helping. Diversity of peopledom all around is astounding. Dorky finance kid passed by earlier, bespectacled, wearing a grey school type trousers and blue shirt over chunky leather shoes which have a buckle on one side. Then, two ladies that were as pretty and as dressed as models. I marvel at the size of their heels. First sip.
Wakefulness paves the way through to my forebrain, unfortunately accompanied by a reciprocal bowel action. Lunch hour is the time they choose to clean ladies toilets at the main concourse. They are just so sensible around here. A well presented lady in her fifties looks oddly out of place with a luminous green plastic cast on her left hand. Those that are usually given to children. The crazy green of the cast clashes with the greyish polyester blouse and neatly cropped grey hair. What made her choose it? Second sip.
Double pram containing children of different ages is pushed along by a young woman old enough to be their sister. She is too pale to be their mother, however the man strolling alongside is the same colour as the children so father and a nanny perhaps? Maybe mummy is in the hospital to give birth to another baby? If so, it's odd they should stray so far from the maternity ward. But maybe it's the shops and the Burger King that drew them here. The stand is outfitted with bags, holdalls, satchels, purses and, weirdly, novelty cushions emblazoned with main league football clubs names. For a split second I consider purchasing the Arsenal one but quickly come to my senses. It would have been a laugh though. Third sip.
Two women join the coffee queue, hugging. One is blonde and wears a white top. Her friend is a brunette. She wears a black blouse. They do say that opposites attract. Fourth sip.
Feeling much more awake now. Coffee Ritazza shines brightly at me, overhead. I can't say I noticed it before, but now I have, it must be a good sign. (she leans back in her chair and giving a small yawn crosses her arms while surveying her surroundings) . The finance kid has made it to his lunch hour and saunters past in an animated discussion with a pretty blonde. It is amazing to witness the transformation on his face. From dour to enthused in a blink of an eye. Fifth sip is delayed by the insistent crying of the small child somewhere nearby. The sound of it crying distresses her so her insides thighten and she goes all hazy and weak (not to mention has a worrying falling out with sanity and insists on writing about herself in third person). Its stopped. Fifth sip.
(oh god, it continues) She plays mindlessly with the tassel on her bag, something to occupy her while she waits to finish her coffee. Sixth sip.
and a rush to the nearest bathroom.




21 April 2008
Hospital Grounds. Garden. Sunny day.
People walk by. Their badges bounce on their bellies. The staff. You can tell patients and visitors apart by the fact they don't have blue ribboned necklaces dangling from their necks. There is a hospital bed in the garden and on it a young woman lies, her right hand bandaged. She is wearing a bright green short sleaved top and her mother is arranging her legs so that her knees are slightly bent. The suddenly bright sun bounces off the pale white sheet that covers her. The mother has raised the back rest so that the girl is sitting comfortably as if in an executive chair on a transatlantic flight. The mother wears glasses with dark rims and bleached blonde hair done up in a bun. The bun bit is much darker, chocolate brown colour. Also, her roots are showing. The whole thing makes her look older than she is. The woman in the black trousers and pink top walks by. He hair is old-fashioned too.
The mother and daughter on the hospital bed that has been pulled out into the garden are greeted by a young man in dark blue trousers and light blue shirt. His hair is blond. He appears to be listening to the explanation of their situation. I cannot hear it.
Muslim family walks by. Daughter showing her face (round and young) in a black robe and bright pink scarf. Then the father, wiping his nose, wears a crocheted hat. Then the mother, covered all in black, safe from the eyes, short and dumpy (this cannot be concealed by acres of cloth) and three paces behind her husband. Presumably daughter goes first so that her father can keep an eye on her, so that no funny business can take place.




30 April 2008


Eating a massively large salad with tons of broccoli and halloumi cheese and seeds. It's yummy but it's too big for me. However, I persist in eating it despite feeling full to the bursting. I do this because it tastes good so it gives me pleasure when I chew it and also because I feel I'd be missing out if I were to leave it be.
She is tired and sleepy. She only slept for four hours last night, buzzing too much from a fantastic evening before to calm herself down enough to sleep.
Dour men with sour faces and grey suits gave a talk about online ordering system this morning. She sat in the front row and fell asleep at once.
Now it's lunchtime and Betty is ordering bathroom suites online. She has set her labs to run and is free until 4pm. Perfect opportunity to catch up on home improvements planning. Tim declined the invitation to join the group for drinks last night saying he has a hot date instead. Everyone smiled and nodded appreciatively when he said this but Sarah was suspecting it was a clever ruse to cover up the fact he was going to watch a football game and didn't want everyone to know it.
Ada also left early, dressed up to the nines. Maybe it was the Lamborgini man. Portia thinks that Sarah is a comic genius. It's surprising. Sarah works in the hospital and is surrounded by humourless drones with more brains than common sense.


Hang on. What happened to the coffee?



The End







Epilogue


Ben: Are you really going to publish this?


Me: Yes.


Ben: Why?


Me: Because I want them to ponder the deeper meaning behind the words.


Ben: But there is no deeper meaning.


Me: Yes, but they don't know that.