Saturday, 18 June 2016

I remember you....

Isn't it lovely when someone remembers you.....

Settling into my hospital bed at silly o'clock yesterday morning, a face appeared around the curtain.  'I know you, don't I?'  asked the nurse, her eyes scrutinising my face.  As all blood drained from my face, and then promptly returned at the speed of light, giving off enough heat to power a small country, she followed that comment with...

'You were sick all over me last time you were here..'

Of course, this was my chance to apologise, which I did very sincerely, and we had a bit of a giggle about it.  She even remembered the heavily wrinkled, deflated balloon, which apparently took some removing from the end of my bed after I left.  That'll be the husband with his boy scout knowledge....

So back to yesterday.  As a 'writer' of sorts, being with strangers can give me so much material, so I have tried to restrict this to the funnier parts.  The lady next to me (Jo with the Two Bunions) was delightful, and keen to chat about her four dogs and her hip replacement. I thought she was quite normal until she started saying that she preferred her dogs to her children.  How awful for her children I thought.  And then I realised that I probably felt the same on occasions, those being when bedrooms looks like we've been burgled, and the washing machine is working through the night. Perhaps we had more in common that I thought...

The young girl opposite (Tegan with the Longest Toe in the World) was very chatty too.  The general consensus of  all the ladies on the ward was that she was too young to be in there.  Surely her toe could have delayed its phenomenal growth till at least she was grey? 

But the best one was on the end (Mavis with the Knee Replacement).  She had been put in the bed near the nurses' station where all the naughty ones are put, and she lived up to that expectation for the seven hours I was there. The emergency button was on permanent repeat and she obviously hadn't managed to work out the operating gown, so she treated the rest of the ward to the sight of her rather low-slung pink bottom on several occasions.  She did finally fall asleep, when her presence was more sound than sight, with a type of snoring you would expect from Bernard Manning after fourteen pints of Guinness and a vindaloo.  Never in the history of time would playing Nessun Dorma be more appropriate...

As I was getting ready to come home, the husband turned up to collect me.  Sitting down while I gathered my belongings, he was looking down the length of the ward, laughing at Naughty Mavis as she was behind the nurses' station, trying to use their phone, and wittering on about how she needed to tell her husband (poor chap) to collect the cream for her piles on the way back.

'That's too much information Mavis, said the nurse, pointing her back to the direction of her bed.

This sentiment was seconded by the husband as she turned her back on the husband and bent over to remove her slippers.

He'll be scarred for life...
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