So much time so nothing gets done.

Some years ago I spent a few years working as a porter in a small hospital in the concrete jungle that is London. I was glad to get this job, firstly because since arriving in the capital of the empire I had been employed in a council highways depot, shifting pavement slabs and hot bags of concrete on, that is, the rare occasions work was demanded of us. The second reason was the year I had spent working on the trauma ward in Edinburgh’s Royal Infirmary. This had brought me into close contact with patients as I considered whether nursing was a career (although it was only called a ‘job’ back then) that I should attempt. The nursing staff, or ‘angels’ as the media called them, soon began to suggest I looked more in the direction of the Pathology Department, possibly a Mortician vacancy may arise they said, and that would lessen the dangers. I never quite knew what they were getting at however they stressed that they felt this was somehow more appropriate! I suppose it’s not everyone who can mistake a foot, attached to a leg recently emerged from a cartilage operation, for a crumpled sheet, as the owner of the leg discovered with a resounding scream one morning. Nor is it tactful to offer reassuring words to relatives concerned over their aged grandfather when he dies an hour later. Several of us hid behind the office door when they returned that evening! I will not mention what happened with that catheter that time…..

Anyway, I was employed for some years at the Maida Vale Hospital, as a porter, and in this small hospital I came into daily contact with all patients and staff and rarely did I come close to eradicating any of them, err, except for that incident with the stretcher on the front steps, obviously. This was a busy job and during the average day there were many times when we were doing several things at once, especially myself as I was considered so important to the running of that place. (Stop giggling at the back there!) An oxygen cylinder required on one ward, the lovely Louise in outpatients needing a visit, a patient needing direction, the lovely Elaine in the office over they way requiring attention, a problem with a dinner trolley, or Margaret on the switchboard needing me… …anyway I digress, I digress.

The point I was making is that when we are busy, and at the hospital we (meaning me!) often were very busy, it was easy to do several things at once, and visit outpatients for a chat. However come the weekend the world changed. Many of the inmates were allowed home, outpatients closed and scheduled operations were rare, so it tended to quieten down considerably. This brings me to the crux (is that allowed?) of the discussion. You see when Sunday came there was nothing to do! On occasions I would work a twelve hour shift to cover sickness and nothing happened! Now in one sense this is good, but in another it was hard. Taking the food trolleys upstairs three times. Taking them down again afterwards, and chucking out the uneaten porridge after breakfast (and no wonder!), became the main job for the day. Other jobs may arise but I didn’t want to do them! An oxygen cylinder needed changing but I struggled to get my feet of my desk, put down the paper, set aside the cup and struggle out to work. During the week it was almost unnoticed how many were changed as we were so overworked (especially me!). Not on Sunday however!

This came to mind as I looked around this dwelling, although ‘dwelling’ may be making it sound too luxurious. The desk is littered with paperwork needing attention. There is a pile of bills in the corner and one of them is dated 1998! A thin layer of dust lies over most of the place, and I hate to inform the world of whatever is in the laundry basket. I have no idea what that was but I swear it has moved three times today! I did find a clean cup, eventually, but really I have been overtaken, not hard, by sloth! This is because when there is so much free time small things, like ‘TechTris’ interferes with the free flow of ideas, and labour is shoved aside while the stomach is filled and the contents always require sleeping off. Naturally the sun has drawn me out several times, blinking into the brightness like a bat near a street light, but even then I dawdle when in a previous life I raced along. On Wednesday a tortoise overtook me! Anyway, I have been writing this since last January and I thought you ought to know.