Tag Archives: seats

The Creature of Habit

I am a creature of habit. Things need to be just so. I do not like change. I sleep on the same side if the bed, I prefer a side of the bus and I always sit to the lefthand side of NFT1 at the BFI. I like things the way they are, and that is that. My treatment on the Second Floor is no exception to this. I have a side of the room, I have rituals that I adhere to, and when that changes, well, I do not manage it very well. I think I can evidence this….

I am sulking. Big time. For the Second Floor has failed to meet my usual, completely realistic, expectations.

First of all, I was greeted by a receptionist who did not know me. What? I hear you say. Not know me? She won’t last long. And none of the nurses are smiling, even when I red lipstick smile at them.

As the lift doors opened, I looked forward and saw that the clinic is rammed. Utterly full of sick people and their healthy buddies. My heart sank. There are people everywhere; it’s like there is a sale on and everybody is buying. It gets worse, I sadly discovered on my arrival that there are NO big read comfy seats free. Not only that, there are no free moderately less comfortably grey reclining chairs. To take this trip even further into the rubbish dump, there are no free hard red chairs with a tall back. I am sitting on something that I did not even know was a seat. Essentially, I am sitting on a cushioned park bench in shades of grey and orange. I am in dire straits. Actually, it is not just me, I just witnessed the Medically Trained People wheel a patient into a bay on office chair. Oh my gods, it’s all the fault of immigration to be sure.

Now, I must, begrudgingly give people their dues, I have surveyed the floor and the people preventing me from being comfortable who are occupying the the big red chairs and the grey recliners are patients. The people occupying the premium economy seats, with neck support, are not patients. They are with patients. I do mean to sound like a child when I say that they are selfish numskulls. Sure it’s New Year’s Eve and people are off work, so they have chosen to spend their free time with a loved one who is being injected with poison, but this does not make it acceptable for them to make me feel uncomfortable by them occupying my preferred seats I have back issues. Nor is it acceptable for them to watch me struggle with a chair whilst they sit their and sip their coffees, and accumulate rubbish which they seem to be incapable of putting in one of the several bins provided. I just know they have used the patient toilets. They are also making a lot of noise, thus drowning out my iPod, foul excuses of human beings. I’m am sure they are all talking utter tripe that is about as interesting as watching beige paint dry, but that does not mean that they can use up all the tables and make me put my tea on the floor.

Sod sulking, I’m irate. This is my space and this is my time and I am surrounded by badly dressed, ageist imbeciles.

Damn you, sick people. Damn you.

Smiley face.


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The Big Red Chairs

I am a creature of habit and routine. I like things to be a certain way for me to be comfortable. My Myeloma makes me have to have a routine, at first, I fought against it, but now, I am embrace. Any changes to my routine, cause havoc, not that anybody would no, because the havoc stays in my brain. It is still havoc though.

Today is a Friday, which means it is a Treatment Day, which in turn means that the routine and habit is more important than usual.

First things first, I arrived at the clinic late, as usual. Despite being late, I still stopped to buy a cup of tea as usual, from the very friendly man who likes to talk about drag queens, before going downstairs to get my bloods done. There, I have the same conversation with the technician, pleased today, that it was my second favourite blood taking person doing it. I would have been ecstatic if it was my favourite man. Once that was done, I made my way up to the second floor, just 30 minutes after my appointment time, to discover that all four of the big red chairs were taken. Tits.

There is only one place I like to sit when I have treatment and that is in one of the four chairs by the Garden Lift. If I sit anywhere else, I am slumming it. Today I had to slum it. I didn’t take it lying down, oh no, I decided that the best thing to do was to find myself a seat and place it directly opposite the four incredibly selfish people having their treatment in the big red chairs and stare them out. When I say stare, there was venom behind my eyes and evil in my mind. I definitely was not a fan of their collective outfits Yeah, I am passive aggressive. I think we just need to deal with it. Sure, they clearly have cancer, two of them were asleep and the other two were hooked up to cannulas, but I deserve one of those seats more than they do. I deserve it because I always sit in them. And I am me.

I am sure my love of those chairs was stronger than theirs. That fact in itself means I have a stronger claim over them then they do. The chairs offer so many options. I can either put my feet up on the accompanying foot stool, or because the chairs are so large, I can curl up or sit on my feet. It’s like sitting on clouds. I too have been known to nap in them. My coat will be resting on the right hand side of it and I will hug one of the three pillows that live on there. These seats also come fully equipped with a power socket, which is always helpful in this digital age. I noted that none of the old, apparently ill people, were using the power sockets today. Selfish. They didn’t even look happy to be sitting on the best seats to have ever been invented. I’ll admit there may have been times where I did not look particularly happy sitting on one of those chairs, but that is not the point. The point is that it is okay for me to not look happy. It is not okay for others to mope around when they are sitting on paradise. Instead of sitting in a sheltered haven, I was in the green house part of the second floor, where the sunlight made my iPad look dirty and my armpits moist.

I fear that this has not set me up for the day. The break from my routine is made me uneasy. Damn them.


I deserve what ever I want. I am special. And for goodness sake, I just wanted my big red chair.

Next week, I am marking my territory. Just you watch me.

I just do not understand how people can be so selfish. I guess that is what happens in the 21st century.


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