Isn't it wonderful how humour kicks in a lot of the time when this type of shite happens.
I remember spending an entire summer in a section of a ward that had six beds, four of them taken up with long servers of which I was one.
The camaraderie that developed was amazing.
It was the summer when David Blaine was hung in a box above Trafalgar Square and went without food. I beat him by three days, only having saline and glucose drips in the hope of sorting out my inner workings.
When it proved unsuccessful and they came to take me away for surgery, rather than being all serious and wishing me all the best, my three comrades in arms started a serious mock argument about who was going to get my watch and ring. Bastards.
I love the way that A2K comes together during such times.