The Bedside Pump

A quiet hospital ward in London on a summer evening, low golden sun through a tall window, on a white metal bedside locker a narrow open box of white-lacquered sheet steel sixteen centimetres long and four wide, small rust spots on its edges, inside it a plain clear plastic syringe half full with a black rubber plunger, behind it a bright threaded rod ending in a small silver gear wheel, milky-white plastic holders at both ends, from a short clear stub at its front a thin clear tube coiled loosely on the locker, a glass of water, a rolled white crepe bandage, a made bed with a pale blue blanket, smooth and empty.