Time for an enema


Even in hospital is there still ying and yang. As some have commented it has been a while since I have written a ditty. The reason being I have been in hospital under the surgeon’s knife. Three times in fact; the result of which is my sense of humour has been sorely tested.

If there was one benefit to this it was the endless supply of opiates, mainly morphine and pethidine that they have sent me gently wafting through some truly fabulous dreams and thoughts for the past month away from the raging storm of pain. No wonder heroin is so addictive. Like everything in life that is enjoyable there is a downside. Opiates turn your stomach contents into rocks. I will spare you all the details, but dignity is left behind when you check into a hospital. After managing somehow to unblock my insides with what amounted to industrial strength Draino I happily drank four litres of water a day along with sandcastle amounts of diuretics to prevent any reoccurrence. I have to say that on some days this was not helped by the food, which was more suited to building cladding and had all the nutritional value of a bicycle pump.

...and another thing

Not only were the poor nurses serenaded by me with a cacophony of swear words and yelps but they had to help me in everything from brushing my teeth to washing my privates. My problem is when I go into body spasms everything clamps up. I nearly broke one nurse’s wrist and actually bit my wife as she made the mistake of leaving her forearm against my mouth whilst hauling me up. So, to all of those nurses at Mater Dei and St James a huge thanks, especially those who taught me how to swear in Maltese. And to my wife… you taste rather good.

...and another thing

Any man in his sixties who has spent hours alone in a single room starts to ruminate about life and values. With Covid rules still in place my poor wife was allowed one hour between 5-6pm each day to see me, slap bang fighting through rush hour. The rest of the day apart from endless pills and drip feeds I was left alone. Everybody has a takeaway from enforced self-isolation and mine was if you are not appreciated, don’t waste your time.

Having said that a number of other important issues were decided upon. After much careful thought I decided I preferred dark chocolate to light but both above alcohol.

I preferred Loony Tunes over Disney and clam chowder without tomatoes. Unfortunately, these Zen-like states of mind did not in any way reveal the meaning of life or understand the vastness of the universe… but boiled eggs definitely should be cracked on the large round end and sandwiches have their crusts left on if proper bread but taken off if square tiles out of a plastic packet.

...and another thing

Hospital beds. Amazing things that can lift, twist and turn you, even fold you in half between the mattress like a human sandwich. However, the controls are even more difficult to get at than airline remote controls. You either need the flexibility of Houdini or be able to extend your arms like stretch Armstrong. And to add insult to injury they can be picky sometimes deciding the level of leg raise is enough and simply stop.

So, visions of returning home seem to at last be realistic and no doubt my next blog I will be back to my rude caustic self. And thanks to all the kind calls and well-wishers.

Stay safe.

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  1. Peggy Newham says:

    Ah Mark, so good to see a writing from you! What a journey you and Kirsten have endured this last month. I hope you can get off this ride and back to a normal and pain-free life soon. Sending you all my best. Be well ❤️

  2. Angela Mortimer says:

    Hi Mark
    Very sorry to hear you have been put through the wringer physically and socially and hope good health returns to you very swiftly.
    Getting home will be wonderful for you and Karen – never a good time to be in hospital but right now – the most testing.
    Best love from wet and windy UK

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