No Sense Of Direction

Following on from last week’s column, I asked the Medway hospital receptionist the way to the ward where my dad was recovering. After I got past the door that read “Access to all areas,” I realised I’d forgotten the rest of her directions.
Too embarrassed to ask her again, I stupidly decided to guess my way to the ward. After meandering up and down my chosen corridor for a couple of minutes, I decided to ask others where it was.
I asked doctors, nurses and everyone I saw with a lanyard and, strangely, nobody knew. It was like I had asked the way to the broom cupboard or Dr Frankenstein’s secret laboratory.
Once, a nurse who didn’t know, pointed me in the direction of someone she thought might know but it turned out they didn’t.
I passed the dementia ward and momentarily pondered whether I should check in.
Exhausted from my search, I finally jumped into an empty wheelchair, feigned injury and asked a passing porter to take me to the ward.
Talking of directions, I’m often stopped by passing motorists asking the way to somewhere because presumably, I look like a well-travelled person when, in reality, I’ve visited 4 countries, including Wales.
I’ll always forget that I’m a pedestrian and can easily access any road from any direction but, totally forgetting motorists can’t do likewise, accidentally send them towards a one-way street or cul de sac.
I’ll notice my mistake immediately after they’ve driven away and then spend two hours deliberately walking into crowded places with lots of street furniture to hide behind in case they drive back and shout abuse at me.
I start nervously looking out for their cars like contestants in Channel 4’s Hunted look out for 4×4’s and have hid in cinemas six times and watched rubbish films to avoid their wrath.
Thankfully, with common usage of Sat nav’s, this is happening less. But the only vehicles I want to see creeping up alongside me are buses and ice-cream vans.



Categories:Dad

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