Another smack of that beloved old palm, and then the nurse is out the tent flap, so to speak.
Once he hears that she is gone, the Doctor throws off the blankets and stands up, arching and stretching himself, then goes to a locked cabinet disguised as a small storage locker with the Gallifreyan symbol for vegetable pills written in hasty red scrawl on the silvery top. He runs his hand over the box, letting it scan his biodata for confirmation. It slides open, revealing a leather bracer with embedded keypad.
He reaches inside, takes the wriststrap and applies it to his right wrist, entering coordinates in the general proximity of Old Earth, 2012. Then he looks back at the tent flap, rubs the burn from his stinging eyes, and depresses the small key beside a screen that reads,