Faulty Towers not Hollywood Hotel

What would an adventure be if it didn’t have a few bumps in the road?

My only request in Hollywood Hotel, (I mean Hollywood Hospital), was that the food better the experience of the stay.  Understandably, it is going to be pot luck for food choice for the first day.  But I choose after that and I was looking forward to my choices.

I must admit that I was a little bit disappointed when my first meal out of surgery had a ‘white theme’.  I didn’t realise it was a fancy dress party for my lunch tray.  White bread roll, butter, mashed potato, cauliflower, vanilla yoghurt; really?  Do I have the left overs?

Dinner was water with a beef stock cube and mashed potato  with mystery meat and brown gravy, (that was actually described as pork and apple sauce).  I think these pain killers have seriously altered the effectiveness of my taste buds.

I hate to carry on about the food.  Seriously, I do.  You know it is not like me to complain.  Don’t you?  But I was so looking forward to my pimped up aeroplane food!  Since being diagnosed with IBS, I have been diary free and attempting a diet that is wheat and gluten free where possible in order to train my insides to behave.  I was quite looking forward to my chosen breakfast of Spanish omelette, roasted tomato and fresh fruit.   Unfortunately, the weetbix, full cream yoghurt and white toast I received did not exactly match my dietary requirements.  Neither did the Brussels sprouts I received for lunch, where the heck is my duck and orange salad?

I questioned several staff from nurses to those food servers.  The general response being “Surprise, surprise” and “Oh, yeh that happens a lot”.  Unfortunately none of this can be corrected without hunting down the elusive ‘menu person’.  I think she avoided me in the morning while I was attempting a shower, but like a women scorned I went on a ‘menu person’ hunt.  That’s right do not mess with the hungry patient tracing the hallway in her pyjamas and waving her catheter bag around like a drunken teenager with a half empty bladder of goon wine.  I was not to be messed with.  I fixed my dinner meal, ordered for tomorrow, and assured the ‘menu lady’ that yes I can have the spinach and ricotta meal because ricotta had NO diary in it. 

As my visit goes on, my stay at Hollywood Hotel is enhanced with more memories.  I decided to lessen the children’s fear of the sterile room by taking them on a ride on mummies bed.  Perhaps not the best idea.

“Look, that button puts the bed on an angle.  And to put it back, you press this button.  No.  Maybe it is this one?  Or this one?  How about this one.  Oh no.”  My bed is now stuck at a 45% angle with my feet to the ground.  Do not think this will be to comfortable.



Good bye bed

The next half hour has several nurses trying to fix the bed, which is slowly taken apart and then removed from the room.  We have a quick visit from the supervisor, and a few of the nurses pop their heads around the corner, just to giggle at me standing in the middle of the room with my wee bag in hand and my children lying on the carpet where the bed is supposed to be.

Yay.  New bed finally arrives as nurse attempts a 5 point turn to manoeuvre it into the room. Forward, bang, back, bang,  forward, bang, back, bang, forward, bang; yep, pretty sure it is not going to fit.

He leaves with that bed and returns with another that my husband helps to semi-dismantle in the hallway, before successfully squeezing through the doorway.  Now I have a brand new bed, never used before, they are even taking plastic off the cords.  I have the latest model and when I look at the remote, this one has two extra options of  bed direction.  If I like I can sleep 45% with my head to the ground.  I think it may be best that I do not touch anymore buttons.