I am standing in a queue for the reception to the accident and emergency department and am gasping for breath. Why are there no chairs?

A slim woman next to me is in obvious pain and clutching her stomach, notices that I am trying to set up the hospital WIFI, she gently takes my phone and does it for me.

The sick and infirm surround me, endlessly waiting as the system grinds slowly.

I have some lengthy information from my GP who has sent me here, and this speeds up the process, and I am seen by a doctor relatively quickly, and transferred   to a holding area to be taken to a ward.

This area has a mixture of curtained cubicles with reclining chairs, and an open space with upright old people’s chairs and some reclining chairs.

I am deposited into one of the former.

There is a chatty woman opposite,

        ‘I don’t know why I am here, there is nothing wrong with me, they just came and got me! I have 20 cats and chickens and I need to go home to feed them.’

A plump lady with peroxided hair takes the chair opposite, she is sobbing and the cat lady leans over and strokes her arm.

Diagonal to me is a small and silent Chinese woman, tears are streaking silently down her cheeks.

Next to me is a young woman in a hijab lying on a reclining chair, she spends much time looking at her phone until she tries to move,

        ‘Oh fuck!’ she exclaims.

This surprises me.

To the left of me is an elderly gentleman in an upright chair who has bad abdominal pain.

        ‘Excuse me, I am sorry to bother you, but please could I have a reclining chair because I am in such pain and if I could lie down my pain would feel better,’ he asks a passing nurse.

        ‘We haven’t got any,’ and she walks off.

I notice that the old man is trying to get a plastic chair to put his legs on, but a drip stand is in the way, so I go over and move it, and put his coat on the chair to cushion it and roll his jumper to give some support to his back, and the last I see of him, he has fallen asleep.

I am ushered to a cubicle to speak to a doctor, a lovely young woman, who has been living with her boyfriend but has moved back with her parents because she cannot afford to continue living with her boyfriend. She is a junior registrar.

At this point I need to the loo, there is no adjacent toilet, you hav to do some lefts and rights and I can’t see properly and get lost, a kindly passing nurse just takes my hand and guides me.

I return to the holding area to find someone else is occupying my cubicle and there is no chair for me to sit on, so I hold on to a wall struggling to breathe and hold a girl’s hand who is terrified of needles and is having blood taken.

The nurses appear glassy eyed and disinterested.

There is no offer of water and I get so thirsty. I had brought a bottle of water but had finished it.

        ‘Could you possibly fill up my water bottle?’ I ask a passing nurse.

        ‘I will come back,’ she says.

She never returns.

There are no bells to call a nurse.

We have all been admitted into hospital but there are no beds. This area is not designed for long- term patients sitting on chairs.

A tea lady arrives with welcome sandwiches, and a banana, that banana is the most delicious thing.

        ‘Could you fill up my water bottle?’ I ask.

        ‘Of course, oh, I have run out of water, I will go and get some.’

With that, she disappears, and returns with my full water bottle.

She also gives me extra biscuits in case of emergency.

I will never forget her kindness.

I am being nebulized every 40 minutes to help me breathe. I might be on a chair, but the care is there, and this would be terrifying at home.

The nurses show no emotion or humour but do the right thing with little grace, changing drips and giving medication.

The cat lady has no money, I offer to pay for a taxi, so she can feed her cats and chickens but she refuses. She has to wait until midday the next day for transport.

A Nigerian nurse takes over, when the robot nurses take a break and |I speak to her in Yoruba and her face lights up. I can only say hello and goodbye in Yoruba!

In the morning, I am taken to the geriatric assessment unit, I think it is mow called something more refined and I have to come to terms with the fact that I am actually a geriatric!

I think I have arrived in heaven, there are super comfortable reclining chairs and I am offered water and given food.

There is a very jolly geriatric consultant who appears passionate about the care of the elderly, and greets each patient with-

        ‘It is such a pleasure to meet you.’

He insists that I stay in hospital a further 5 hours to make sure that I can breathe without nebulization

. I hope the cat lady’s cats and chickens survive.