I don't like hospitals. I'm not even keen on going in with other people, or visiting them. But if I'm the patient, I get an immediate and chronic dose of the galloping heebie jeebies - which is not like me at all. Courage is my middle name. Send me out to fight packs of mad dogs or platoons of armed men, and Frankie Flynn is your man every time. I laugh in the face of danger, spit in the eye of fear.
On the other hand, a little nurse with something sharp and pointy in her hand can turn my bowels to mush.
It just seems to me to be a completely unnatural situation. If someone is going to stab you with a needle or cut you open, the thing you want to do is to belt them in the kisser and run away; not sit there like a fish on a slab and let them get on with it, no bother.
One time last year I had to go up to A and E in the Northside General to have a splinter taken out of my thumb. I was doing something very technical with a bit of sandpaper - that only true working class people would understand, so I won't go into it here. Anyway, it went horribly wrong, and I ended up with this splinter right down the middle of my thumb.
'Splinter'! - What am I talking about? It was the size of a small plank! Peggy brought me up to the hospital and she had to get a porter and a nurse to help drag me in from the car park.
It took four of them to hold me down in the treatment room to get the splinter out. When they were finished, there was blood everywhere - on their uniforms, on the floor, up the walls...
At lease half of it was mine.
The hilarious new comedy novel 'It's a Desperate Life' is now available as a paperback or e-book from Amazon and all other good book sellers, and through http://peterhammondauthor.com
No comments:
Post a Comment