Bounce

BD bounced.

She bounced straight back into hospital via the Emergency Department of the Royal Melbourne, which was nowhere near as dramatic as it sounds: more tedious, tiring, and annoying because she'd been going so well.  Mind you, she  also bounced straight from triage to back of house, sparing us the necessity of sitting in the waiting area of ED with the drunk, drugged, and injured of Melbourne on a Saturday night. Instead we sat in an ED cubicle listening to the drunk, drugged, and injured on a Saturday night and greatly appreciating the calm patience of the staff who periodically popped in through our blue curtain and provided care as if they had all the time in the world.

Royal Melbourne: from the inside looking out. This was not her window view. From her window she saw a wall. It was far too exciting for me to photograph.

The Royal Melbourne, being part of the public health system, dispensed with the polish of privilege which we had enjoyed at Epworth. There were no carpeted floors; no drop down TV screens with extensive room-service menus; no wide hallways with built in tanks of tropical fish; no private room with a built-in desk and comfortable chairs for visitors. RM was all business and beyond the blue paper curtain BD shared her room with an elderly man who played loud videos in a language we didn't know, and an old woman who struggled to understand why she needed to be in hospital.  All the available space was in use and the hallways bustled with staff and patients and visitors of all colours, shapes, and sizes. 

No unused but aesthetically pleasing couches in the hallway cul de sacs at the Royal.

If the patina wasn't there the care and expertise certainly was and we were comforted with the knowledge that BD was back under the same roof as her extensive history and the impressive collection of 'ologists' who coordinate her medical care.  

Blood-taking skills on point and approved by phlebotomist BD.

And while she had her grease and oil change, I got to wander around Melbourne during the Royal's midday rest hours whilst avoiding crowds who might inadvertently give me diseases to take back to her.  Roger, bless his little cotton socks, got to stay home in the mornings and do dog duty before coming in to the Royal in the afternoon bearing all the items BD requested along with liberal portions of chocolate which, in the ultimate act of parental sacrifice, we helped her eat.

Just down the road was the Royal Park, with a big playground, views of the city, and lots of space to sit and have lunch. 

Time in Hospital World is comprised largely of waiting and thus it was, eating chocolate, that we settled down to wait: for the numbers to be right; for the ologists to be happy; for the D-word to allow us to bounce.