Back to the BRI

After 8 months, i set foot on Ward 15 again. It was acutely strange.

I felt totally institutionalised in August last year, so it was with a certain degree of trepidation that i found my way back to the ward. My home for 20 long days.

The staff seemed pleased to see an ex-patient again. I had left in a wheelchair, pale, gaunt and hunched like a banana. They took a moment to recognise me in my upright, healthier-looking state. Trudy, a lovely nurse, could remember which beds i had occupied (in the right order) and that i'm writing a blog. She needed help with my name - but that's not surprising given the volume of patients flowing through the ward.
I was hoping to see Sam, a nurse who encouraged me through some of the harshest times. Sadly she wasn't around.

It was a short visit and not the main reason for visiting the BRI, but Claudia and i left the ward having refreshed our own very different memories of the place.