The hospital ward.
Beep, beep, beep goes the heart monitoring machine. Not a doctor, nurse or care assistant to be seen?Peter Abraham.
Beep, beep, beep it goes again. He lies there awake thinking when will this end? Early morning starts and blood pressure checks not welcome procedures but the doctors and nurses are doing their best.
Staff shortages means breakfast is late but have no fear they’re only on ward eight.
The food is quite good for a hospital ward. Usually quite awful and atrociously poor. Corn flakes for breakfast washed down with tea. Medication follows much needed desperately. Lunch time arrives with goodies on the trolley what shall he have nothing too jolly? Juice to start followed by pasta a fruit crumble to finish not such a disaster. Tea time arrives a welcome final meal. Soup to start to begin a hearty meal. Roast beef to follow smothered in gravy it goes down a treat what a smashing deal. Ice cream for afters only vanilla will do. With food done and dusted all for the day back into bed he returns his prayers he will pray.
The bleeping has finally stopped but things do not end there. A bed bath is order where all is laid bare. Demoralised with despair he gets undressed, carbolic soap doesn’t smell the best. The rest of the patients go about their business. Blood tests, and chest exams all a constant pest. Sat back in bed all scrubbed and pressed he lays there thinking all of this for a dodgy chest.