Woke up in hospital being wheeled into a private room, the management obviously being undecided what gender of ward to put me in (this trans thing had to have some perks sometime). Police came to see me but I was groggy, in pain and feeling nauseous, so they decided to come back another time. As a concussion patient I was woken up every couple of hours to have lights shone in my eyes and check I knew what my name was and that I could move everything I was supposed to. Given I really needed to sleep and was being woken up for this I am surprised I passed. I was given painkillers and had blood pressure and my temperature taken. I guess they were looking for signs of internal bleeding, of which none showed up.
Doctors came and prodded at me, to determine my injuries. Two deep cuts to the left side of my head, a chunk of my left ear missing, pain but no apparent external injuries down the left side of my upper body, to the extent that lifting my arm on that side was next to impossible, bruising down my inner right leg and an acutely painful but apparently only slightly scratched right foot. A pounding head and painful foot were nice bookends to my misery. I was more concerned about missing work than anything, and got a nurse to call them at around 4am. One of the advantages of working for a 24 hour company is you can always leave a message.
Later in the day the police showed up again, a different set of detectives this time, to take a witness statement. I was surprised how much I did remember, and they seemed pleased with their several pages of notes. I expressed anxiety over the security of my house, which I hadn't finished securing, and they said they'd go back and sort it out. Dozed in two hour sessions throughout the day, being woken occasionally to be ferried to x-ray, but was wide awake by the afternoon, and bored, so begged for magazines to read. I soon went through them and was again bored, so made my way, hobbling, to the day room to watch TV, where I spent a few hours chatting with a lovely lady called Irene, who was very generous about me passing given the state of me, before the Police came back with the news of having secured the house, and bringing me my bag and a few toiletries.
And, possibly more importantly, mobile phone and purse. I could now both contact people and pay for bedside TV. Not that there was much on, I'd forgotten how dull most live TV was. I called my neighbour and was told that far from being unconscious during my blackout I was very active, ranting and raving, calling someone to have an argument over the phone (please don't let it have been my ex) and bleeding everywhere.
I went back to the day room to talk to Irene again. By this point whenever I passed nurses they were remarking on how swollen by foot had become, and I should get that x-rayed. A doctor was called to give the nod to that, but must have been busy as despite a couple of reminders, they never showed up that night. In a strange bed, and given I'd been napping most of the day, it was around 2am before I got to sleep again.
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