In Mammern

Well, as you can see I’m back online after a longish break. Time to catch up with the latest events.

I left Zurich with a Mercedes minibus for the disabled at one o’clock yesterday (Monday) and arrived here in Mammern 45 minutes later.

The first impression was of luxury all around. Modern, well renovated and tasteful, and my room is the biggest I’ve ever had at any hotel anywhere. It even offers a chaise longue, something I haven’t seen in donkey’s years. There’s a big, flat-screen TV which would be nice if I had time to watch it, but that’s where the frustration has already started.

I was under the mistaken impression that clinics like this one serve to provide rest, relaxation and gentle therapy to overcome a sickness or an operation. Just goes to show how wrong you can be. Within half an hour of arriving, I was ushered down to a doctor who gave me an entrance check-up. Everything was okay, except for answering the same old questions all over again. The chemotherapy and the trip had taken it out of me somewhat, so once I’d finished with the doctor I wanted to lie down for a couple of hours. No such luck. There was an endless procession of people flooding into and out of my room every two minutes until well into the evening. I won’t bother to list all their functions, but they all wanted something or other from me. I eventually escaped out in the park for half an hour just to be away from the chaos. When I got back, it continued. One individual asked me whether I wished to dine in my room or the dining room. I said I wouldn’t be dining anywhere for reasons she would already know if she bothered to read the notes. The stoma leaked, so a nurse of New Zealand origins set to fixing it at 10 o’clock. She had vast problems because the stoma material used by the hospital and what’s available here in Mammern are two different things that don’t match. So that was another 30 minutes or so of irritation. She eventually left and I figured I must surely be left in peace now for the night, but no. At around eleven o’clock, the new shift of nurses – three of them on this floor – marched in to introduce themselves. They knock on the door and open it simultaneously, so you just have to make sure that you’re not caught with your pants down, so to speak.

During the night, one of this new trio came in four or five times to check on the stoma. She doesn’t have any qualms about banging doors or switching lights on full power while you’re desperately trying to sleep. So although I managed to sleep to an extent, it was anything but a peaceful night.

The new day started at 7.30 with someone crashing in to take blood samples. Then two more people, then the cleaner, then some of the dressings were replaced.... I’m sitting here with sore eyes because I’m still so tired, but the procession just goes on and on. The physiotherapist is due here at 11.30. God knows what she expects from me, but she won’t get much. I don’t feel up to any physical activity whatsoever.

I expect things will settle down eventually and some kind of acceptable routine will fall into place. My first look at the private park was promising – it’s right on the bank of Lake Constance and is lovely. Such a pity that the weather is bitterly cold. I would spend more time out there to escape the nurses if it were warmer.

That’s about it for now. At least I’ve managed to get this written without interruption.