Friday, June 19, 2009


When your in hospital for an extended period, you start to get used to the characters there. The patients, nurses, doctors, and other staff such as cleaners and food giverers. Patients come and go. Some come, but never get back home. I had 3 patients in my ward who died in the first 2 weeks. All elderly. I think everyone in this HDU ward were people who had just had surgery.

There was one old man in my ward who had no strength at all. Couldn’t walk or even sit up in bed. He’d get bed bathes and even spoon fed. He had an adult nappy for his bodily waste. He was sometimes wheeled in and out of bed with this huge machine they’d occasionally bring in. I guess to change his bed sheets or something. He was as quiet as a mouse. Never heard a peep out of him apart from when asked questions. He would sleep about 20 hours a day.

Then, for some reason he was put on a strong painkiller and something funny started happening. He’d talk in his sleep. I say talk, but it was more singing. What were the lyrics to these songs you ask?

“What… the… fuck” he’d gently sing.
“Fuck… the… what” in a rhythmic way.
“What… the… fuck”
“Fuck… the… what”

Occasionally he’d raise or lower the tone, change the volume, or leave a longer or lesser gap between each line, mixing it up a little. I was in stitches! This quiet, gentle, polite, old man! Saying such rebellious things! He did this for two nights.

Part 6 - Bollocks Man

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