Julia's experiences with hospitals and doctors inspire others to write with their own, for example, this poem about a man's bladder troubles!
'Dear Doc, my pee has lately been
so foiblesome and fickle:
An intermittent, fluctuating,
teeny-weeny trickle.
Where once I watched a flowing stream
in reasonable spate,
Now half the time I simply stand
and hope and pray and wait.'
'The relevant anatomy
you need to understand.
Around the bladder's exit pipe
there sits the prostate gland.
Unless hormone-inhibited
that gland will grow and grow,
And grip the pipe, and squeeze the pipe,
and thus constrict the flow.'
So I got into The Freeman
(after thirteen months or more)
And they took me to the theatre
to perform a quick re-bore
By pushing up my Thingy
a telescopic kit
To slice away the extra. Then,
they sluiced out every bit.
I came to, with a catheter
- Trinitarian, three in one:
An inflow tube, an outflow tube
and one for the balloon.
Then this 'irrigation' ended
and I swallowed pints of juice,
Hoping my plastic bag would shine
More golden, not so puce.
Now all of this depends upon
the folk who run the ward:
A team of super Nightingales
for whom we thank the Lord.
They care for us, and bully us,
and take the place of Mother
(And inspired by their example,
now we all support each other).
So cheers for them, and thanks to them
(yes, a spot of reverence too).
Be proud of them, bow down to them
and hope they get their due.
(WGMcC, admitted 12/1/94, discharged 17/1/94)
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Created by Julia Darling and Cornwell Internet. |
Last updated on 4 June 2004 by Roger Cornwell.
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