The Orange Wave

A cardiac recovery ward in London in the pale blue light of an early winter morning, a frosted window, one warm bedside lamp, beside an empty bed with a folded grey blanket a beige rolling steel cabinet one metre twenty high with black edges and a drawer, on it a tower of black modules, front panels matt and smooth, small yellow push buttons and black knobs, a small screen with a fine orange grid and one smooth orange wave, two round gauges, plain with bare pointers, on a steel gooseneck above a gas cartridge in a clear sleeve with blue contents, on the bed a milky-white catheter coiled in a clear plastic bag.