Day surgery

Staying in nightwear around the clock blurs the days together. Something soft with a forgiving waistband counts as getting dressed, survives a walk to the day room, and doesn't press where a wound or a fresh scar is.

A four-hour infusion next to a beeping pump is exhausting. Noise cancelling turns a shared bay into something bearable, and doubles as a signal that someone needs a rest from conversation.

Nil-by-mouth waits, dehydration and the bone-dry air on wards can leave lips cracked within a day. An unscented balm is easy to keep by the bed and use without adding another strong smell when you already feel queasy.

Hospital sockets sit behind the bed, above head height, or on the far wall. A standard 1m cable means choosing between charging your phone and being able to reach it. Three metres reaches the bed every time.

Tired hands drop things, and a bare tablet slides off a bed table at the worst possible moment. A rugged case with a built-in stand means it survives the fall and props itself up on the tray table without anyone holding it.

Holding a phone up while lying flat is tiring and drops it on your face eventually. A clamp arm makes films and video calls possible for someone who can't sit up.

Side sleeping with earbuds in is a special kind of ache, and over-ears slide off when you're flat. Open-ear or sleep-specific designs let someone listen through the small hours without a lump pressed into their ear.

Concentration after surgery or during treatment is genuinely poor. Listening works when reading doesn't, and it works in the dark without disturbing anyone else in the bay.

Ward wifi is patchy and rounds interrupt everything. Puzzles can be picked up and put down instantly, fill ten quiet minutes without much commitment, and work when concentrating on a full book feels impossible.

Colouring asks nothing of a foggy head and gives the hands something to do during a long afternoon. Tear-out pages mean a finished one can go up on the locker, which does more for a bed space than any card.

Medication, anaesthetic and long nil-by-mouth waits leave a mouth that tastes of nothing good, usually at the point when brushing your teeth means a trek to the bathroom. Something strong in the locker drawer is a very small thing that helps a lot.

Plenty of medications, oxygen and long nil-by-mouth stretches leave a mouth uncomfortably dry, and there are hours when you cannot simply keep drinking. A gel or spray in the locker is something a person can reach for themselves at 3am.

Jug water goes warm in an hour and needs both hands and a sitting position. A straw lid makes drinking possible with one arm cannulated and the bed barely tilted, which is the difference between sipping all afternoon and giving up.

Bed baths depend on staff time. Large fragrance-free wipes let someone freshen up on their own schedule, which for a lot of patients matters more than any bunch of flowers.

Everything lives in this bag for the duration and gets moved every time a bed does. Soft sides squash into a locker, a shoulder strap frees a hand for a drip stand, and something you actually like the look of makes the whole business feel less like an emergency.

Ward floors are cold, hard and busier than you expect. Slippers with a proper sole and a back stay put when you shuffle to the loo at 3am, and may save you from being issued the dreaded hospital grip socks because you have nothing safer to wear.

Ward floors are hard and cold, and feet get colder as circulation drops. Grip socks let someone stand for obs and toilet trips without hunting for slippers under the bed.

Antibiotics, treatments and hospital food can all upset your stomach, and repeated diarrhoea can leave the skin around your bottom painfully sore very quickly. A simple barrier cream protects the area and makes washing less uncomfortable. Tell the nursing team if the skin is broken, bleeding or becoming more painful.

Chemo chairs and day units run cold, and drips make you colder still. A zip or button front can be draped over a cannulated arm rather than threaded onto it — a pullover simply can't be worn.

Bags can get separated from their owners during ward moves, trips to theatre and the rush to get home. A name and contact number give someone a way to reunite you. A privacy flap keeps those details covered until they’re needed.