Room without a view

When J and I arrived in the ward well after dark, we were almost euphoric to find ourselves in a side room which was larger than the tiny one we  had left and not only had a small bathroom (toilet and basin), but also windows all along one wall! In the morning, our spirits sank as we realised that the windows admitted almost no light: they looked out onto a building site on which a large building was being constructed only a metre or two away. Its side was encased to provide privacy for the occupants of the hospital rooms, and it was too tall for me to see any sky even with neck craned close to the glass, too long to see anything beyond either end. 

The day's major excitement was J's first puréed hospital meal, macaroni cheese with carrots and peas neatly moulded into their pre-puréed shapes. It was quite a busy day, with SLT, physiotherapist and spinal nurse all carrying out assessments of various kinds, and no staff were available to sit with Jemima even for a few minutes, so I did not leave the room all day. The move to a ward was a step forward for J, but meant lower staffing ratios. She did, however, have one to one support from a healthcare assistant overnight, which allowed me to try to sleep in a large reclining chair in the vacant room next door, within earshot when needed. It was difficult to leave J with strangers who did not understand her and could not really communicate with her; she tried hard to be calm, knowing that I needed some sleep, but found it hard to settle and spent many hours lying awake. I generally managed a few hours sleep, despite waking frequently when I heard her calling or struggling to communicate something, and I was grateful for the opportunity, without which the long days would have been a lot more difficult.