Admission to Hospital

So finally, the day had come. It was the day of the operation and I had taken the day off work to drive my wife, Jane, to the hospital. It was an old building set two blocks from the beach in Williamstown, Victoria. The front of it was adorned with brick relief patterns, ornate cornices and winged angels. It was only now that I first thought that my wife of 20 years was going to have an operation!

I suddenly became concerned that she could actually die! - Complications do sometimes occur. The angels reminded me that not only are hospitals places of renewed health and life but they are also places of death.

We parked the car and gathered her things. An overnight bag containing a new tub of face cream, a toothbrush and paste, a new nightie and an assortment of women's magazines. As we walked to the door we were met by a stern looking nurse wearing starched uniform. She directed us to the ward. I felt like I was walking my wife to the gallows. I did not show it, but I had butteflies in my stomach. This could be the last time that I saw her! The smell of disenfectant and floor polish added to my feeling of nausea.