Well, now that I’ve something to cry about…

I can’t seem to cry.

Here I am, laid up in hospital with ruptured hamstrings. A hamstring being:

1.	(Anat.) One of the great tendons situated in each side of the ham, or space back of the knee, and connected with the muscles of the back of the thigh.

I am way beyond tears now. Perhaps they’ll come later, but, for now and under the influence of the painkillers, I have written a hospital Drabble. This is one hundred percent accurate about what went on this morning…in fact, to meet the 100word criterion of the Drabble, I have downplayed events. Believe the unbelievable.

Cleaners raise the beds high as though on stilts, their mops swoosh-swishing under them. Nurses lower the beds, stripping them, shaking out new sheets like sails to reclothe the mattresses: patients rolled over and back, decanted onto chairs, wheeled into the toilet or perched on commodes. Phones ringing, buzzers buzzing, machines humming, finished drips beeping. Someone put on the television, nice and loud, a talk show, no, a shout show. Couples screaming, faces red, arguing who did what and why.
And into all this chaos, the Doctors arrive for their ward round.
‘Rest quietly,’ the Doctor’s advice for me.