After my friend with the horrid cough and Tb in her lungs these past twenty years is finally admitted to hospital after a relapse and some nasty symptoms I eventually manage to gain admission to her room . This is no mean feat as for several days though she has a bed , always in a room in isolation , the room changes with the day . Initially she is On Admissions . Then , curiously , she is parked on a Plastic Surgery Ward . From my point of view , the saving grace is that she seems able to use her mobile phone and sends the occasional update regarding the sorry state of affairs pertaining to her treatment or lack thereof .She lies in state , exhausted and losing all manner of essential bodily fluids from her lungs and we remain convinced her TB is reactivated from our reading many years earlier of "The Plague and I" by the Great Betty McDonald who taught us all we know about consumption .
When I am finally admitted all my worst fears are confirmed . Not only has she lost weight despite continuing to eat with her usual appetite , but she is hectic in appearance, and frequently coughing red into her handkerchiefs . I am reminded of the elusive fey girlfriend character in the crumbling hotel in "The Troubles" by JG Farrell and we take mutual delight in the benefits of our learning from our Humanities based education all those years ago .
We appear , indeed , to have more of a grasp of TB than the consultant who with her science based education is still going down the bronchiechtasis route at this point . ( A spell check later may result in a correction. Nope , I had it right . How's that ? ) .
I announce myself on the respiratory ward and gain admission quickly . The consultant is polite and smiles a lot at me .
It is about half an hour after I enter the room that the nurses appear and ask me to exit the room and re enter wearing the mask , gown , and gloves , all of which have to be found from a far distant cupboard . Hopefully I have not been infected during that initial half hour window .
