“Across it, gowned, masked and otherwise scantily clad aliens would transfer onto their beds post-operative patients, unconscious, labelled and with a list of instructions as if they had been remodelled.
I’d learnt this was the first and scariest part of recovery, and I couldn’t cross the Rubicon red until I was allowed. So now, I dithered.
‘You must be our new nurse?’ A figure approached, her cotton frock closely hugging her slight figure’s every move. ‘Hello. I’m Kathy.’ Introductions apparently didn’t need a mask – seeing her smile was as encouraging.
‘You’ll need to put on overshoes before you come over.’ She pointed to a nearby cabinet stuffed with canvas slippers as big as clowns wear. I chose a pair and put them on, thinking Kathy’s sandshoes looked light while mine promised trench foot.
‘Can I come over now?’ I asked, ignoring them.
‘Sure. Don’t know where your shoes were last so the overshoes keep down infection. Sister asked me to show you around.
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