It’s a morning shift, the ward is a long, large L-shape with six bays (four beds in each) seven single rooms and two soundproofed bereavement rooms.
Looking in from the entrance it’s a hive of activity. Cleaners mop, wardies push beds, partners look for loved ones, midwives wheel babies in cots, trolleys jostle for space … blood collectors, meal delivery, laundry and obstetricians with their piles of precariously teetering charts.
Voluminous blue curtains surround each bed giving privacy but it’s noisy with the chorus of call bells, IV pumps, women in early labour, babies crying, private conversations, staff chit-chatting.
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