Footsteps. I freeze, razor in hand one armpit shaved. The heavy foot fall comes nearer. I glance at the curtain, preparing to throw my towel over my chest the moment that curtain should even twitch. The shadow passes the end of my bed space, stopping by my neighbor instead. False alarm.
 |
| Washing set up |
That was too close. Adrenaline pumping, I hurry on. Deftly painting the other arm in foam. I lift the razor once more. I should have seen it coming. Suddenly my blue curtain shifts and disappears. I sit their half starkers, boobs out, arms up a metaphorical rabbit in very real headlights. A young male doctor and their patient gawped back open mouthed. An eternity seems to pass before I manage to smile and mumble that he might want to close the curtain. His crimson face vanishes as he pulls the curtain shut with such force it nearly comes off the rail.
Mortified I abandon the deforestation. The sooner I finish the more likely I am to leave with most of my dignity intact. I squeeze shower gel onto the flannel, scrubbing the foam from my body. The scent of strawberry is much nicer than the smell of boiled cabbage and fish emanating from the kitchen down the hall.
Doused in deodorant and body spray, (hundreds dead thousands homeless as my Dad used to say), and moisturiser drying, I could see the end in sight. Eyes on the curtain, I changed, hands working feverishly. Just dressings to do and I'm home and dry.
No sooner had I kicked my trousers off, they came. I recognized the voices. My nutrition team. Shit shit shit! I grabbed for the trousers, knocking them of the bed. The voices came nearer. Abandoning hope for them, I tried grabbing a towel, knocking my head on the tv instead. They were outside. "DON'T COME... in" my voice trailed off.
Too late...
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