This is an oldie from about 2 months ago which I shared with some of you, but well worth another Saturday chuckle.
When I first checked into the hospital, struggling to breathe, eat or make any non-clinical sense of this heart failure challenge, my days were spent resting, taking very useful, non-hallucinogenic (I must emphasise this) drugs via intravenous drips, so effectively stuck to a bed, moving volumes of water from my lungs and abdomen which placed increasing pressure on my weak heart, and then undergoing the various medical tests to check my suitability for a heart transplant.
A pattern of a sort eventually develops in the hospital routine. But long before that, shortly after I had been admitted and I was still getting used to the radical changes in my life and my family was becoming familiar with visiting times and other requirements, I was the subject of a unique non-medical intervention.
When Belinda left my corner bed in the cardiac high care ward at the end of visiting hour one day, the woman across the row from me started “making eyes” at me and some “come hither” gestures with her lips.
I – of course – ignored her, but then began a series of comments about how she really liked me. At one stage she claimed to be getting hot and pulled the sheets and her hospital-issue gown up. When the nurse reprimanded her for exposing her legs to me (I think I was the only male patient admitted to that ward that day), she said “he’s seen them many times”. (Do I need to state for the record that this was not the case? I had encountered and greeted her for the first time when I walked into the ward a day or so before).
Later, under her breath, she suggested to me certain improvements that would suit “your look” better, like shaving my moustache.
At one stage, despite needing to lay flat on my back, I turned to face the window pretending to sleep but overheard her complaining to the nurses “he cant go to sleep now, I haven’t kissed him yet”. Thankfully for my continued assimilation into hospital routines and treatment plans, let alone peace of mind for both of us, our families and the nursing staff, she was discharged late afternoon as it seems her heart was fine.
In all my years no one has ever purred at me like that. I wonder who she was “seeing” and remembering from her past in those two days in the ward. She must have loved him deeply.
Oh, did I say she is 85?