Repeat to fade
It is 11.30am. I am at work. At work because my boss refuses to let me have the full day off, because the hospital I am going to doesn't open for visitors until 2.30. This would be fine. Except she fails to understand the hospital I am going to ISN'T IN THE SAME CITY and I CANNOT DRIVE. Because my dad had a stroke two days before my third driving test (though, to be fair, when it's a third driving test, that's hardly an excuse. I have become accustomed to being told 'unfortunately, miss..' whilst still gripping the steering wheel with sweaty palms).

Anyway. I have been at work since 8am, up since 7, and I am permitted to leave at 11.45. I have sorted out my work. I now have a choice. Go pee, or go eat. I go for a pee.

I leave at 11.45. I have 30 minutes to get to the train station.The train station is 25 minutes walk away. I have no change for a cab. Bloody cashless society. I run. I am carrying my dad's clean washing in a rucksack on my back.

I get to the station in 25 minutes. I am sweaty. I buy a ticket. There is a huge queue because of the ten machines, six are broken. I get a ticket. I have four minutes to get to the platform. I look lovingly at Burger King and McDonalds. I run towards the platform. I am wearing a jumper. Sweat runs down my back.

I get on the train. After running for those four minutes, the train decides to sit and do nothing. The doors open. A very rude man holding what looks like a ping pong bat tells us the train is broken and to get off. The train is cancelled. Wait an hour or find another, he says. An old woman didn't hear him. TRAIN CANCELLED, he screams.

I get on a train to a different station, which takes twice as long. It's packed. I stand. The person next to me smells. But so do I.

I get to a station I had no intention of going to in the first place. It is deserted. It starts to rain.

Since I have no idea of what bus I need to catch to be where I need to be, I walk two miles to the next village over and catch a bus to the hospital. This takes an age, because the bus is shit, and a lot of thick people don't understand the concept of removing the fare from the purse/wallet in the bottom of their bag FIRST and holding it in their hand.

I get to the hospital late, to a very upset and confused dad. I am the only one who can understand what he's trying to say. I apologise for the trains, the buses, try to explain. The nurses are rude. The hospital is dirty.

At 4.30 I leave the ward and go to the hospital cafe. It closes at 4.30. Which means you either visit your loved one or you eat.

It's two hours to the next visting time, and though I am less than twenty miles from home, I can't nip back for dinner. I walk (minus the backpack, thankfully) to McDonalds, some four miles away. I am so upset, I can only eat a happy meal. I don't know why.

After evening visiting, I leave the hospital at 8pm. The nearest train station is lonely, deserted and dangerous, and I am scared. Despite the jumper, I am cold. I want to cry. A group of seven or so lads carrying cans of Strongbow wait next to me. I am scared. The train comes twenty-two minutes late. I get to my home station at 9.30. I get home at 9.50 and am too tired to eat, so I go to bed, knowing that I have to do the whole thing again the next day.

The worst part is knowing that on a Sunday, inexplicably, the transport powers-that-be think LESS people will want to travel (I mean, when given a day off, why waste it going somewhere!? Shopping with your partner? Visting your parents? Do me a favour!) And either run a 'Sunday service' (bus/train only runs every 2 hours) or just plain not run at all.

Six months on and my dad is much better. I have bought a car. The journey takes twenty minutes.
(Northern Lovely, Sat 31 May 2008, 10:56, 3 replies)

....
...fancy a cuddle?

C'mere, you.

x x x
(oneltrchardonnay, Sat 31 May 2008, 15:23, closed)

*hugs*
I have been in a similar position. It sucks.
(resurrection_mary cannibal_ferox, Sat 31 May 2008, 21:46, closed)

*hugs*
When I went to see my dad in the hospital, I was only 16. I got on the train into town, then the bus out of town to the hospital. Except there's 2 hospitals and when I asked "do you go to the hospital" the driver said "yes".

It was the wrong hospital. I walked down the bus to ask why the driver had gone straight on at the roundabout and not turned right. he shouted at me for bothering him and dropped me off at the side of the road 3 miles from the place i needed to be.

I had to walk there, and try to be smiley and happy when I arrived. it didn't work. even after having had most of his stomach and bowel removed, dad still had enough fight in him to be angry with the bus driver for me.

*clicky for you for just getting on with life despite it having sucked*
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Tue 3 Jun 2008, 23:03, closed)