Westmead hospital is a creepy place at night.

Westmead hospital is a creepy place at night.

Night number 5 or 6 in hospital I’m not sure anymore. That’s the thing about being in hospital the days start blurring into each other, a mix of doctors, medications, boiled potato after boiled fucking potato. It was 12am and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go for a walk to the secret spot my new friend dale showed me the other day, shoulda stayed on the hospital grounds, and I probably should have taken my phone with me (mental note next time I’m walking around Westmead by myself at 12am sorry mum and dad). As I was standing outside I saw two young men walking towards me and me being the scaredy cat I am ran towards the hospital back dock crouching behind a van and the first thing I though was “please God don’t let me be raped tonight my asshole couldn’t handle something like that”. I shit you not that was my first thought because that’s the first thing on my mind living with Crohn’s, whether my poor asshole could handle anymore trauma 😂

I saw another building that looked part of the hospital but wasn’t attached so what did I do? I went inside the abandoned building of course duh!! I enter into a locked room with only an elevator so I go up to level 2 hoping somehow it connects to the main building. I end up on a floor full of locked doors and dim lit lights. I start following the exit signs praying that I get out of this creepy hallway only to hear a voice Eco “this way”. Didn’t think anything of it at the time until I got back into bed later heart racing and thought wait a second where the hell did that voice come from?! Maybe it was my guardian angels looking out for me, I bet I made all their hair fall out years ago stressing about the mess that is my existence.

I’m running through these corridors which only lead to staircases, which I keep following to more staircases. I eventually end up in THE BASEMENT. I felt like I was the quintessential stupid girl in the horror movie and I could hear the audience screaming out why would you go towards the basement nothing good ever happens there! I was fully expecting to turn around and see the ring girl at any moment or a masked serial killer.

I decided to head back to where I came from and run back to the main entrance carrying a stick in my hand. When I finally saw the main building I exclaimed under my breath “not today Satan, not today”.

I managed to get some sleep before the old guy in my room decided to wake up the place at 4:45am by screaming in pain only to be told by the nurse that it’s because he wasn’t using his pain machine all night. Jesus Christ what a waste give me the pain machine so I can get some sleep in this shit hole. I got up for a drink and met my friend Jodie who was crying in the hallway because she couldn’t deal with the pain anymore. I Cried with her and we talked about how messed up it is that we shit bright red blood and that’s normal for us but it isn’t normal and a 20 year old shouldn’t have that as their normal. She’s a mother to two amazing kids who are a credit to her parenting. I don’t know how she does it, running a house hold, raising kids and battling everyday against a war raging inside her own body. We cried and we laughed about how stupid I am and we both agreed that I need to super glue my phone to my hand in the future. It has been a life saver having her here and I’m so grateful for that. Having someone around that gets everything I’m going through has gotten me through this stay. Talks like those at 5 am are therapy for the soul and it was better than any $150 counselling appointment money could ever buy.

They’ve started me on prednisone which is a type of steroid to control my inflammation. It’s a love hate relationship because it’s going to help me put on weight which I desperately need but the side affects that come aren’t nice. It caused excruciating pain in my legs the other night that caused me to cry so hard my face swelled up. I’m a real sight for sore eyes don’t you agree? IMG_0036 They’ve told me I’m out on Thursday after my colonoscopy. I hope so and I hope I never see another boiled potato again.
Moral of the story: my butthole lives to see another day, only slightly messed up (thanks Crohn’s).

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