02-01-2013, 07:30 AM
“Hello, can you tell me your name? Don’t go to sleep, look at me, do we know his name?” The paramedics voice sounded busy as it faded away letting her hands take over, moving all the time, securing straps and braces, injecting liquids. In a muffled voice, she asked me the same questions repeatedly until I passed out. I had always wanted to travel in a speeding ambulance, lights and sirens parting the red sea of cars but not with a face that had been smashed like a pumpkin.
The surgeon worked all night rebuilding what was left of my nose, eye socket and jaw. He seemed quite proud of the achievements, for days after he brought all sort of strange individuals to my bed, nodding sagely at the backlit x-ray, strutting like pigeons during courtship, I often wished I had a gun. Sometimes one of the lower life forms would stoop to ask me an open question; I took great delight in showing them two fingers.
As the healing process started my wife’s daily visits to the ward became more and more irritating. My brain had lost control of my re-wired mouth so we had very little to say to each other and to be honest, you can only listen to what she bought from Tesco’s so many times before your you start looking for sharp objects. None the less I tried to communicate, starting simply “Mie nmss Powl , very good, my names Paul “she repeated, repeated every bleeding time I said it, I wouldn’t mind but her name’s Carol. Needless to say, our relationship suffered, as did she, with two bus rides each day just to listen to a grumpy git moaning all the time.
One bright busy morning, four nurses, two doctors and a cleaner descended on my room, Oh, I now had my own room due to “antisocial behaviour”, and apparently you can’t urinate on other patients when they moan all night, blatantly begging for drugs. Sorry where was I, Oh yes. They were all in my room and they had just brought in Richard, a young man in his thirties, he raised his hand and nodded a greeting as they wheeled him past the end of my bed. The cleaner told me later he was partially paralysed and had been brought in for some radical new procedure that was quite risky but worth it, a fifty percent chance of success, I told her to get some work done. She thanked me for the complement and said my speech was improving, Cow.
Richard was a simple soul who read magazines and made woollen Penguins to sell for charity, I know; how sad is that? We were a right pair, I couldn’t talk, he couldn’t walk. Ward 7 was our prison and most of the time he didn’t talk while I walked him around in a wheel chair. On the odd occasion he did open up, he mentioned a group he had studied with. The group leader was a lay preacher called Joel, whom he believed, had the God given power of faith healing. The group were seven strong and totally devoted to Joel’s teachings. The last group meeting had been held in honour of Richard for his bravery in opting to undergo the surgery and they had promised to hold a healing session when he came out of the operation.
Grey skies and dark moods had depressed our small corner of the hospital; Richard spoke only to humour my feeble attempts at speech and he’d even stopped trying to hobble around on crutches. He had been out of surgery now for nearly three weeks, without so much as a twinge in his legs or a come by yah from his so called friendship group. My speech wasn’t improving and I still had two operations planned to try and create some movement in my lower jaw, I wasn’t hopeful. Our mood was lifted slightly as the cleaner blustered in announcing that Richard had some visitors. She then spent the next ten minutes clucking round like a mad mother hen with OCD before agreeing, with herself, that the room was presentable and disappearing through the door.
We heard the visitors before we saw them “Oh happy day, Oh happy day”, I started to look for sharp objects again as Richard started to clap in time with the singing, his mood instantly lifted. The first one in through the door, I took to be Joel as he slid in arms open wide “Richie, Richie, Richie, give me some love” as they hugged I glanced at the sick bag on my bedside table. The door opened again as the other five pilled in, still singing and closely followed by the cleaner who I’m sure had put on some makeup and fixed her hair? either way she was beaming. The singing petered out and Joel spoke “Richard do you remember our promise”, Richard nodded with a half smile as he squeezed Joel’s hand, Joel didn’t let go “do you feel the power” he shouted “do you feeeel the power “he shrieked again, all five voices and Richie answered together “we feel the power, I can’t hear you, we feeeel the power” at this point the room had reached fever pitch and the cleaner burst into action. She moved like a well trained magician’s assistant, passing Richard his crutches she pulled him upright then ushered me onto the bed next to him. Joel spoke again this time to me, “tell me friend how can we heal you” I was reaching for my two fingered salute when Richard spoke “this is Paul and he has difficulty with his speech” on cue the curtain was drawn around us and the chanting began, it created a rhythmic back beat that the faith healer used to move his words.
“Children of Jesus, we are here today, in your service, feel the power of god racing through your hearts healing the sick, curing the lame, the lord hears your names. Dear lord hear us, Richard needs to walk, dear lord hear us, Paul need his speech back, dear lord hear us, heal your children, heal your children, heal your children, heal your children” the chant built into a crescendo and Joel boomed over the top of it. “Richard, throw away your crutches”, Richard let them fall to the floor, “Paul speak to us”.
“Witchrds fawon owerr” , he had clattered to the floor and I couldn’t stop laughing, big belly laughs that hurt my sides, the curtain swished open and the cleaner helped Richard to the bed, he looked upset and I was still laughing, the congregation hurried away in single file each glancing back before passing through the door, the room fell silent except for my laughter. I looked at Richard and we both burst out laughing, with deep breaths we managed to slow the laughter down, “Waat a woad of bowocks” I said putting my hand on his shoulder. The cleaner was the last to leave, her glance back was more deliberate than the others, through laughing eyes I noticed her face, she seemed completely at ease as she glided through the doorway, the faintest of smiles broke on her lips as she bowed her head and closed her eyes.
My stomach turned, laughter died in my chest, everyone had gone. Richard was still laughing and rubbing at the pain in his knees. I looked at Richard and started again, we laughed until our jaws ached.
The surgeon worked all night rebuilding what was left of my nose, eye socket and jaw. He seemed quite proud of the achievements, for days after he brought all sort of strange individuals to my bed, nodding sagely at the backlit x-ray, strutting like pigeons during courtship, I often wished I had a gun. Sometimes one of the lower life forms would stoop to ask me an open question; I took great delight in showing them two fingers.
As the healing process started my wife’s daily visits to the ward became more and more irritating. My brain had lost control of my re-wired mouth so we had very little to say to each other and to be honest, you can only listen to what she bought from Tesco’s so many times before your you start looking for sharp objects. None the less I tried to communicate, starting simply “Mie nmss Powl , very good, my names Paul “she repeated, repeated every bleeding time I said it, I wouldn’t mind but her name’s Carol. Needless to say, our relationship suffered, as did she, with two bus rides each day just to listen to a grumpy git moaning all the time.
One bright busy morning, four nurses, two doctors and a cleaner descended on my room, Oh, I now had my own room due to “antisocial behaviour”, and apparently you can’t urinate on other patients when they moan all night, blatantly begging for drugs. Sorry where was I, Oh yes. They were all in my room and they had just brought in Richard, a young man in his thirties, he raised his hand and nodded a greeting as they wheeled him past the end of my bed. The cleaner told me later he was partially paralysed and had been brought in for some radical new procedure that was quite risky but worth it, a fifty percent chance of success, I told her to get some work done. She thanked me for the complement and said my speech was improving, Cow.
Richard was a simple soul who read magazines and made woollen Penguins to sell for charity, I know; how sad is that? We were a right pair, I couldn’t talk, he couldn’t walk. Ward 7 was our prison and most of the time he didn’t talk while I walked him around in a wheel chair. On the odd occasion he did open up, he mentioned a group he had studied with. The group leader was a lay preacher called Joel, whom he believed, had the God given power of faith healing. The group were seven strong and totally devoted to Joel’s teachings. The last group meeting had been held in honour of Richard for his bravery in opting to undergo the surgery and they had promised to hold a healing session when he came out of the operation.
Grey skies and dark moods had depressed our small corner of the hospital; Richard spoke only to humour my feeble attempts at speech and he’d even stopped trying to hobble around on crutches. He had been out of surgery now for nearly three weeks, without so much as a twinge in his legs or a come by yah from his so called friendship group. My speech wasn’t improving and I still had two operations planned to try and create some movement in my lower jaw, I wasn’t hopeful. Our mood was lifted slightly as the cleaner blustered in announcing that Richard had some visitors. She then spent the next ten minutes clucking round like a mad mother hen with OCD before agreeing, with herself, that the room was presentable and disappearing through the door.
We heard the visitors before we saw them “Oh happy day, Oh happy day”, I started to look for sharp objects again as Richard started to clap in time with the singing, his mood instantly lifted. The first one in through the door, I took to be Joel as he slid in arms open wide “Richie, Richie, Richie, give me some love” as they hugged I glanced at the sick bag on my bedside table. The door opened again as the other five pilled in, still singing and closely followed by the cleaner who I’m sure had put on some makeup and fixed her hair? either way she was beaming. The singing petered out and Joel spoke “Richard do you remember our promise”, Richard nodded with a half smile as he squeezed Joel’s hand, Joel didn’t let go “do you feel the power” he shouted “do you feeeel the power “he shrieked again, all five voices and Richie answered together “we feel the power, I can’t hear you, we feeeel the power” at this point the room had reached fever pitch and the cleaner burst into action. She moved like a well trained magician’s assistant, passing Richard his crutches she pulled him upright then ushered me onto the bed next to him. Joel spoke again this time to me, “tell me friend how can we heal you” I was reaching for my two fingered salute when Richard spoke “this is Paul and he has difficulty with his speech” on cue the curtain was drawn around us and the chanting began, it created a rhythmic back beat that the faith healer used to move his words.
“Children of Jesus, we are here today, in your service, feel the power of god racing through your hearts healing the sick, curing the lame, the lord hears your names. Dear lord hear us, Richard needs to walk, dear lord hear us, Paul need his speech back, dear lord hear us, heal your children, heal your children, heal your children, heal your children” the chant built into a crescendo and Joel boomed over the top of it. “Richard, throw away your crutches”, Richard let them fall to the floor, “Paul speak to us”.
“Witchrds fawon owerr” , he had clattered to the floor and I couldn’t stop laughing, big belly laughs that hurt my sides, the curtain swished open and the cleaner helped Richard to the bed, he looked upset and I was still laughing, the congregation hurried away in single file each glancing back before passing through the door, the room fell silent except for my laughter. I looked at Richard and we both burst out laughing, with deep breaths we managed to slow the laughter down, “Waat a woad of bowocks” I said putting my hand on his shoulder. The cleaner was the last to leave, her glance back was more deliberate than the others, through laughing eyes I noticed her face, she seemed completely at ease as she glided through the doorway, the faintest of smiles broke on her lips as she bowed her head and closed her eyes.
My stomach turned, laughter died in my chest, everyone had gone. Richard was still laughing and rubbing at the pain in his knees. I looked at Richard and started again, we laughed until our jaws ached.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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