At the Royal Free

I went to the Royal Free in Hampstead yesterday afternoon to be there for J when she came round from her elbow operation. They have inserted wires to pull the broken bones together. The last time I was in that hospital was 1998, when I donated my womb, fallopian tubes and ovary (I was found to only have one!) to their incinerator. I had a miserable five days there. The ward was red hot but I couldn't remove the bedclothes as the ward was full of other women's visiting husbands and sons. It was also not very clearn.

I am pleased to report that things have improved tremendously. It was still red hot - I had to remove as many layers as I could in the waiting room, where I sat for almost two hours waiting for J to come out of the Recovery ward - but a lovely young girl called Adrienne, or Adrianna, offered us all cups of tea - free! I offered to make a donation for mine as I was so delighted to get it. And there was a water dispenser, too. And a loo! Though some poor man who was awaiting his transport home dashed in and was sick in the basin. Oh well, couldn't be helped. Apart from that, the wards and corridors were gleamingly clean and a mechanical voice reminded everyone at frequent intervals to use the antibacterial gel. I had brought my own bottle, and spilled it all over my handbag, which now smells just like a hospital.

Having arrived at 3, it was around 4.30 before I was led into a side room to see J. I was horrified by how she looked. She was grey and comatose, with an oxygen mask on, and her arm was in plaster, but instead of one black eye (now purple, green, blue and yellow), she had two and one hand was swollen and blue, looking like a rubber glove that someone had blown into and inflated. I pointed this out to a doctor, in case it was swelling because the plaster and bandaging were too tight, but he said it was just more bruising appearing, following her accident.

Eventually, she was able to croak a few words, and they moved her into a proper ward, but soon had to move her on again - with me following her bed, carrying coat, cardy, two handbags (I'd retrieved hers from her locker for her) and a polystyrene cup of water - because they had more male than female patients and had to shift everyone around so the sexes were segregated.

They said they would probably have to keep her in overnight as she was feeling very sick and dizzy, but she felt a bit better after being given an anti-sickness drug (the same one that paralysed me last December and caused me to be kept in hospital overnight, on the night we had a blizzard). Luckily, J didn't react to it. I had a toothbrush with me and was prepared to take her home in a taxi and spend the night, as the hospital insist that someone has to be with you the night after an operation. But around 6.30 her boyfriend, who lives even further out of town than I do, arrived with his car, so I wished her a speedy recovery and left for my two-hour journey home.

I slept badly. I had a nightmare about going backwards down a long spiral staircase, grabbing the wrong handhold and knowing I was going to fall to my doom. I woke up in the middle of the night red hot and sweating, feeling as if I had a fever. But I'm OK this morning and have to catch up on work. I also went to view a flat yesterday, but that's another story. I have a splinter down my fingernail which is making typing difficult, so I shall tell you the tale of two garden studios next time!