A favourite quote and a way by which to approach life.

Today is the tomorrow that you worried about yesterday.

Saturday, 27 November 2010


First of all I need to apologise for my long absense. I'm okay. I've been rather busy trying to catch up with my OU studies whilst starting my post grad studies at Newcastle University. In the past 10 days I've done six and a half weeks worth of OU work and written one and a half assignments. I've still a lot to do, but I'm getting there now.

So anyway, I realise that I owe you a story about a spider. It's from when I was in hospital the time before last.

The night before the spider event occurred I had a strange experience. I woke up several times through the night, and on each occasion I checked the time. The first time it was 1am. The second time it was 4am. The third time it was 6am. The fourth time it was 5.30am :oO Weird. The next night I told one of the nurses - R - about it and she said, 'Nooo, don't tell me that. I won't be able to come back in here now - it's too scary.' She then told me of several strange things that she's seen in the hospital over the years and that they all freaked her out.

A couple of hours later, when most were asleep but I hadn't been able to, R came rushing into my room.
'There's an enormous spider in the corridor and we don't know what to do!'
'You're not too scared to be in my room?'
'No. The spider is scarier. It's enoooooormous. We don't know what to do.'
'Um, put a cup over it, slide a piece of paper underneath the cup, scoop it up and put it out of the window.'
'We've put a cup over it, but we can't put any paper underneath.'
'Why not?'
'I'm can't touch it, D's too scared, and L isn't going anywhere near it.'

They were stuck. I was still attached to the aminophylline infusion and the oxygen, but all the same I could see that I was their only hope, so I gathered up my oxygen tubing and unpluged the infusion pump (it can run on battery for a couple of hours). I made it a couple of feet from the door before being stopped in my tracks by reaching the end of the oxygen tubing. I had no option but to do without the oxygen in order to save the nurses from the enormous spider that was terrorising them in the corridor.

I steeled myself for the encounter with Aragog that awaited me. I stepped out into the corridor, whereupon I saw the upturned cup concealing Aragog between my room and the nurses' station. I asked for a sheet of paper, then approached the cup brandishing the 'weapon'. I carefully slid the paper underneath the cup, stood up, and then wondered how I was going to carry the spider-containing cup to the window whilst still attached to the drip as I needed one hand to pull that along. I asked R for help.
'Noooo. I'm not going near the spider.
'I can't get rid of the spider if I can't get to the window.'
R conceded, although kept at full stretch of the drip line, and we made our way back to my room and to the window. After R flung the window open at arm's length, with a look of utter fear at seeing the enormous spider again, I removed the cup. I was faced with Aragog. I'd been expecting something of giant proportions. Aragog turned out to be about the size of a £1 coin.
'Honestly, R, that's not enormous.'
'Yes it is. Get rid of it. Please get rid of it.'
I shook the cup and paper and out fell Aragog.
'You do realise that we're on the 4th floor, R, don't you? The spider's probably just fallen to it's death.'
'I don't care. At least it's gone.'
I was getting rather out of breath by this stage due to the activity and lack of supplimental oxygen. R suddenly realised this and went back from terrified spider-hater to nurse. I was shuffled back to bed and had the oxygen put back on my face, whereupon I handed the cup and paper back to R, who was very reluctant to touch anything that Aragog had been near, but she did eventually take them from me, albeit holding them very tentatively.

A little while letter I was settling back down and not far from sleep when R came rushing back into the room.
'Oh no! I've just thought; the spider will probably come to haunt you!'
'The spider's probably dead. Your room must be haunted because of what happened with the clock last night. The spider will come back!'
'I doubt it. I don't think spiders haunt people.'
'How do you know? I bet they do. I'm not coming back in here.
'Um. Okay...'
R left. I went to sleep. I never was haunted by Aragog.


Dawn said...

LOL Becky to the rescue!!
Can you imagine the look on your consultants face if s/he'd seen you out of bed, IV going, O2 off, saving the nurses in the middle of the night?!?!
How is your eyesight now you've had the cataract surgery?
Dawn x

B said...

wow. i'm really quite horrified by that story. it's funny, but utterly horrifying at the same time. nurses REALLY shouldn't be making their patients deal with spiders. and then suggesting the spider might haunt you....?! bloody hell.

Sarah said...

The spider wouldn't have died just tucked and rolled. Apparently you can drop something up to the size of a mouse down a mine shaft and it will survive. Makes you wonder how they know that though.

Joy said...

:0) I have a lot of symnpoathy for the nurse but I don't think (hope, anyway) I wouldn't be quite so silly!

It's lovely to see you back and well done with all that study!

J x

Grumpy Old Ken said...

Lovely story but sadly typical. wonder they didn't quote health and safety issues.