Now they won’t let me go home. I’m being detained, chained to the wall by an IV.
I wasn’t prepared for this. I’ve been here for 19 hours already and I’ve *just* found out from a nurse that I’m expected to remain here until further notice. It could be several days, apparently. DAYS. Christ on a bike. Why has it taken 19 hours to tell me this? I’ve been waiting to go home.
I wasn’t being kept in overnight for observation. This was a misleading description. I was being taken into custody until further notice, not on account of the meningitis that I don’t have, but on account of my face. If I’d known there was even the slightest chance of this happening, I would have packed a bag. I’ve got nothing. I don’t have a toothbrush, a hairbrush, a change of underwear, deodorant, clean socks, nothing. I’ve got the one set of sweaty exercise clothes I was wearing when I walked in yesterday and that’s it. Thank god I had the foresight to bring a charger for my phone.
It’s all so drenched in irony. (1) I don’t have meningitis. (2) I feel fighting fit and I am mad as hell. (3) Apparently my face has cellulitis.
I have tickets for the opera (La Gioconda) tomorrow and Mahler’s 5th Symphony on Monday and apparently I can expect to miss them both. I am absolutely fuming. They won’t even let me go home and pack a bag of toiletries and come back because “we won’t be able to hold the bed”. Those words were the moment when it dawned on me that in their view I am occupying “a bed”. As far as I knew I was sitting on a trolley in some sort of temporary waiting area. Very, very patiently. For 19 hours.