Went back to the hospital today. Fortunately the hot doc had the foresight not to be around such a mega buff looking person as myself right now. Elastics were fixed. It felt weird walking in by myself as my mum parked the car because it was just me. Looking like a freak – with no one to hide behind. I felt better once I got back on the ward.
On the way out of the hospital me ma pointed out to me a familiarly large and dumpy looking silhouette sitting outside smoking in a lurid floral dressing gown. Fatty scouse in the corner we meet again. She, somehow, recognises me (I think it’s the brace – because believe me I am unrecognisable) and says I look “great”. Liar. I know it’s a lie because she then tells me she has seen me about on the ward but thought I should be left in peace. I didn’t even go back to her shit ridden ward. I ask how she is “getting on”. This proves to be a mistake of great magnitude. I can’t remember the exact syntax used but it involved the words “size of a”, “blockage”, “melon” and something called a “telescopic intestine” which was followed by a hand gesture. She assures me she is being discharged tomorrow.
Annoyance levels raised on the way home. An old Libertines song which I love comes on the radio (Time for Heroes) but I can’t sing along. I mumble and hum and me ma thinks I am trying to ask for something. When I get home my Dad is in. He is looking at some photos on his digital camera. Some of which are me pre-op. He says "god look at that jaw sticking out there – are you doing that on purpose?". No Dad. No. That was my normal face. I am reminded of the Lost episode entitled, “All the best cowboys have daddy issues”. I am a cowboy. Pew! Pew! And I look better now.
No comments:
Post a Comment