Got a bit frustrated today at always being ushered into this well kept but pokey dining area, after being made to wait at every intercommed door. The room is too warm. There’s window but it’s jammed in one position - there’s no draft. The coffee machine, just off the ward, was bust, but we didn’t have change. Patient’s kitchen is off limits and the toilets are four corridors and three locked doors away. I get a taxi to the unit (mainly paid from J’s savings) because I’ve given up on the ridiculous routes taken by public transport to get to this stupendously badly located hospital. Heat makes me sleepy and grouchy, not the best company for J. Staff are treating her like badly behaved child, she is going along with it. Her legs still look pretty bad, but apparently they are healing (swelling plus eczema plus impetigo). This is one of the better wards. I’m not convinced that staff even talk to her enough. Mental Health care, my arse. She seemed in slightly better spirits today. Almost looking forward to next Saturday when there’s a chance that we’ll be in the local newspaper, mainly about poor access to decent services (I think). It’ll be yet another article to add to a damning pile. Eventually that pile has to get high enough for real and positive change.
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