(Warning this is a long and winding post)
Hi, as some of you may know I have recently been a guest of HRH. No, not that kind of guest, purleeese! I was in HOSPITAL at the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in Stanmore. A Good old fashioned kind of hospital, the kind where the nurses gave patient care, not just taking blood pressure and filling forms. The nurses in question were efficient and hard working, although a little too fond of rectal thermomitors. A veritable army of Malaysian care givers with one Irish girl of about 25 to keep things all ship shape and Bristol fashioned. They toiled and bustled constantly and even took the time to help the rather ancient and extremely senile old boy put his coat on while sat up in bed which he promptly took off again only to ask for his coat again. It took a frustrating 20 minutes to realise that all the time he was asking for his GOAT, but all in all they did a sterling job.
I was placed between two patients that could not have been any more different if they had tried, this made it a little difficult to have a conversation that all three of us could share. Firstly to my left was a man of mid to late 40's with what could best be described as a colourful character, he was "in" to have various stab wounds to his legs and buttocks tended to. So severe were these stab wounds that they had chipped bone. He had been hospitalised for a few days alredy and when I went in and he was due out that day much to every-ones relief. I think he thought I was a plant by the police because he kept looking at me in a weird way and saying things like "Yeah you know who it was don't you" and "You wont get me to point any fingers, I aint standing up in no court". But this didnt stop him from telling me in great detail the way he fought off four, yes four, blokes that "raided my gaff" and "did me" for no more than "a small bag of weed and a few pills". What I found most disturbing was the way he would pace up and down the ward with a stiff legged walk rather akin to Douglas Bader trying to put the "look" on everyone, most bizzare, it wasn't as if he could have done much about it even if we had given him the cause to. All this and not once did the irony of "getting shanked in my arse" ever cross his mind. He had a family member phone the ward to see if he needed picking up but because of the language barrier between the Malaysian nurse and this chap who spoke a kind of cockney that he though made him sound like Ray Winston, but in reality made him sound even more of a "mug" than Danny Dyre(Dire?), there was confusion as to who was making the request for information and our "Geeza" thought it was "the do'er tryin' to find aaht wot time e wuz aaht of ere and wantin a finish the job". This sent him into a panic and after a quick fag he was spotted hiding in the tree line opposite the ward entrance with all his worldly goods in an Aldi(yes no lie, ironic eh) carrier bag and a bit of wood he found laying around. His sister later arrived and told him to "Stop being a Twat and get in the Bleedin' car". Oh how we giggled as he slipped and slid down the little embankment and she roughly bundled him in to the car all the while stiff legged and throwing "looks".
As to the gent in the bed on my right the best way to describe him would be a moth, constantly fluttering and preening, backwards and forwards peering in on each patient on the ward never staying still or in one place to long, avoiding the chap on my left but drawn to his every word and action as though drawn to a flame that would eventually be his demise. He was in his late 60's a city worker, Banker and stock portfolio manager for various worthy establishments. His nervous energy and his inability to stick with one thing for more than a few minutes probably served him well in his career, managing multiple funds, markets changing by the second, you could tell he was used to a busy life, just not used to much social interaction. All there was to occupy him now was the crackling voices of his portable t.v and the bodily functions of crippled old men. That was until I came along and gave him the go ahead to go into great detail as to his job, his life and all the intimate details of his illnesses. Now this wasn't an explicit assurance from me that he could literately unload all this on me, I kind of had him sussed from about 10 minutes of arriving so I made sure I had my ear phones tightly screwed into my ears and my nose buried in a book. The only time I didn't was when the nurses needed to take my blood pressure and defile me with the thermometer(don't they have the electronic ones that they put in your ear now?) but some how he managed to find a chink in my armour and eye contact was made spelling the end to any chance of escape. I had to listen to his views on how the media had got it wrong about The Nhs, Immigration, The world cup bid, Trains(?) and of course the Bankers who were in fact the victims rather than the cause of the financial meltdown both here and in the U.S. How glad was I to be told that they were ready for me in Theatre, another 1/2 hour and I would of made a start on my own surgery!!
As mentioned these were not the only co-inhabitors of the Duke Of Gloucester(DoG) ward, oh no I could go on to tell you of the chap who insisted on wandering backward and forward with his gown undone to reveal what would have won him the Blue Riband at the Hereford County Show
Or the guy that farted so loud the nurses kept running with bed pans.......sorry that could have been me oops!
So why was I in hospital?
FOOTBALL
Two years ago I had a career ending knee injury, I twisted, dislocated my knee, snapped my Cruciate Ligament, tore both medial and lateral ligaments and tore both medial and lateral meniscus(cartilage). Not only all that but as I fell I landed on the exposed end of my Femur and badly bruised that too. As the consultant said at the time there was hardly anything left in my knee to damage. So after three...yes three Keyhole surgery and one open Reconstruction I found myself again in need of attention. I had to have cartilage removed from the end of the Fibular, an area of the femur that has now got Osteoarthritis cleaned and trimmed, and a clean up of the graft that was used to replace my Cruciate ligament. All in all a bit of maintenance that will mean I'm off my feet for a few weeks, but hopefully will mean pain free walking and even a bit of much needed exercise.
So if your out and about in the next few weeks and see a big chap on crutches say hi it might be me ; )
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