I woke up on that Monday morning and quietly got ready for work. My foot seemed a little odd, but I was pumped for the start of another week.
I picked up new tickets in the Engineering sprint planning meeting. I started working on a new feature. I interviewed a candidate. I returned to write more code. It was shaping up to be a very normal Monday.
An hour later, I was wearing a hospital gown.
The doctor frankly informed me the foot situation was bad enough that I was being upgraded (or demoted?) to a proper bed. I would be spending that night in hospital. That wasn’t quite how I expected my Monday to end.
I had the distinction of being the healthiest patient in the Emergency Department. It was an overwhelmingly pleasant and sometimes unintentionally funny week inside a Sydney hospital.
My family and friends were quite concerned about the whole episode, but I tried to explain, things could have been much worse. My neighbours in the ward were suffering much more pain than I was. A nurse gave me a Tim Tam for dessert, which made me rather grateful to be in an Australian hospital.
Whenever I spoke to a doctor or nurse, they would ask “How’s it going?”, in the same way a colleague would ask the question in the office kitchen. I instinctively replied “Good!”, like I usually do while making a tea. And then I remembered, I am wearing a hospital gown, I am in a hospital, and I have a tube in my arm.
I would then have to hastily backpedal, lest they decide to withhold my next dose of medicine. “Err… I mean, I’m not okay!!! There is something wrong with my foot!!!” I managed to do this every. single. time.