Tech issues continued to plague me. My new phone came with a USB-C to USB-C charging cable but no usb-c power socket. I’d been charging it plugged straight into a powerboard I had with a usb-c direct lead out. But at hospital I would need a wall plug. I wracked my brain on the morning the world went dark for a solution. I had a powerbank with a USB-C out, so I could charge my phone from that, then charge the powerbank at the wall. But when I went to charge my phone from the powerbank when I was in A&E it said the accessory couldn’t handle the power required, so it couldn’t charge the phone using my new cable.

Thankfully we discovered this problem before Rosa left me on that first day, and she happened to have a short regular USB to USB-C cable which she could leave with me, which seemed to work. When I moved to the ward, the power points were famously high up on the walls, so I concocted a tower out of sick hat/buckets, so the tiny cords I had could plug into my portable charger then into my phone. It worked for about a day until it stopped actually charging my phone, and started draining it.

I was starting to get scared. My phone was my only lifeline, and no matter how chaotic (and sweary, horny and erratic) Siri was being (more on this to come, I’m sure), I would have been very lost and isolated without my phone.

Enter my Guardian Angel, G. He was visiting the person in the bay across from me every day. He noticed I was struggling with my phone, and his beautiful disembodied voice entered into my bay, as he handed me the exact cable I needed – a nice long USB to USB-C cable, which would plug into the wall plug I had, and charge my phone and my headphones too.

The next day was the Saturday and Rosa was coming to see me again. And after bringing me my requisite flat white with oat milk from Happy Bones across the road (always a laugh for me and my fellow bone cancer friends), and some blueberries and cashews, I then sent her out to find me a new charging cable, so I could return G’s.

Hospital is always a bit weird on the weekends. All the consultants are off, and it’s pretty much skeleton staff. There’s something nice in the calmness, but you know there’s not much chance of anything really getting done over the weekend.

I’d asked Rosa to help me make some signs, as none of the nurses, doctors or healthcare assistants seemed to know that I was blind. No one was handing that information over or taking it into consideration when dealing with me.

Rosa borrowed a whiteboard marker from one of the nurses. There are whiteboards in every bay with our names and a section for notes. Mine was blank. Rosa wrote ‘I am BLIND.  Please say my name if you need me’ on it. She also wrote a sign that we stuck on the end of my bed, saying the same. We wrote a longer one for the window asking people to please be patient as this was all brand new. It seemed to make quite a significant difference in the care I then received. A few days later a nurse tried to tell me they had written the note on my whiteboard, and I had to assure them they absolutely had not. It had once again been Rosa who had saved the day.