Friday, April 28, 2006
OF MATES AND ROOMMATES
I haven’t mentioned how grateful I am to everyone who’s visited or rang up since my enforced hibernation began.
It really meant a lot to me especially at the beginning when I was trying to adjust to my new state of being.
Thanks to Adam & Kerry for looking after my ex-motorbike.
And big thanks go out to everyone who brought / sent gifts like food from Mum, Brenton & Geoff ( it meant I didn’t have to rely on hospital fodder all the time ), my favourite beer from tassie flown expressly from overseas by Dad, music from Ireland (thanks Gosia & Glenn ), the cards from all my tassie mates ( Lumpy & Nev ), audio books ( Jade & Rai ), cookies to help me sleep when my allotted painkillers weren’t up to the job ( Timma! ), everyone who brought beer! and everyone else who brought in reading material and DVD’s (which I will be able to watch as of today because I’m getting my new laptop!) Thanks also to Barbara & Brian for taking the photos in hospital.
Finally a really big thank you must go to my ex-housemate Geoff who did a bit of a whip around and collected a substantial amount, which has enabled me to purchase my new laptop.
I was not only surprised by the amount raised, but more so by the generosity of my mates who contributed. It was totally unexpected and incredibly touching.
I must mention the importance of having good roommates when in hospital.
These particular people are with you essentially 24 hours a day.
The compatibility of the two ( in my case ) personalities makes a huge difference to your stay in hospital.
I am currently blessed to have a pretty good one at the moment. His name is Angelo and he had a street sweeper truck pull out in front of him as his was driving home. Impact speed approximately 80km/h. His got some lovely scaffolding built around his ankle and a fracture in his forearm / elbow due to the air bags failure to deploy.
My previous one at the Alfred was an unfortunate 72 year old chap whom a motorcyclist knocked off his bicycle, around 12 hours prior to my little altercation with the truck.
He had a very strong Yorkshire accent and a stutter. I suspect he was also a bit hard of hearing or maybe just not particularly interested in hearing anyone else speak.
I feel a bit bad because he was a nice old bloke, but had some idiosyncrasies that just drove me nuts.
Now, when you’re all busted up and bed bound, you just gotta use a pan. That’s all fine, I can live with the smell, it’s unavoidable.
I draw the line at receiving a running commentary though.
I was caught out at one point. Having just started to force myself into consuming some rather unappetising and barely identifiable lunch, I failed to realise that he was put on a pan. Halfway through the lunch he exclaimed proudly, like some sort of major achievement:
“I I I I’ve just had a shit!”
Not long afterwards my, the rather unpleasant taste of lunch was joined by an assault on my sense of smell, which I imagine those poor bastards in the WWI trenches would have recoiled in horror at.
Being that the senses of taste and smell are so closely related I need not explain what it felt like I was eating.
Having put away the cutlery and begun an exercise in body function control ( trying to prevent my very recently forced down lunch from forcing its way back up and taking flight ), he added:
“Ooh ooh, I’ve just done a bit more!”
Followed by:
“I feel a lot bet bet better now you know!”
Gee, thanks. I really needed to know that. My day is now complete in knowing that.
But just in case I’d forgotten later in the day:
“I had had had. I had a good shit before.”
Now I’ve mentioned his incredible snoring before, but he was also one of the noisiest eaters. Every meal was accompanied by a series of grunts, sighs, burps, moans and sometimes combinations of them all.
I did get some relief when he had to fast due to upcoming surgery, but that was then replaced by constant reminders that he’s
“…not allowed to to toot to eat anything, because I I’m I I I’m going to have an operation.”
I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who uses as many clichés either. This fellow seemed to have an incredibly annoying way of answering and generally stating the obvious in all the best known clichés.
“J j jj just got to remember, every day wer wer we’re getting better.” is just one example. You can imagine how infuriating that was.
As sorry as I felt for the old coot, I was glad to be moved to the rehab hospital.
My moving to Epworth meant a lot of changes. No more drips in the arm ( had about 9 ), better food, quieter room with a view ( of a pub I can’t get to amongst other things ), my first shower after two and a half weeks and a much more compatible roommate.
After a while, I even managed to convince the doctor to add beer to my drug chart. How good did that taste!!!!
Tomorrow will be six weeks since I was violated by the semi trailer.
It really meant a lot to me especially at the beginning when I was trying to adjust to my new state of being.
Thanks to Adam & Kerry for looking after my ex-motorbike.
And big thanks go out to everyone who brought / sent gifts like food from Mum, Brenton & Geoff ( it meant I didn’t have to rely on hospital fodder all the time ), my favourite beer from tassie flown expressly from overseas by Dad, music from Ireland (thanks Gosia & Glenn ), the cards from all my tassie mates ( Lumpy & Nev ), audio books ( Jade & Rai ), cookies to help me sleep when my allotted painkillers weren’t up to the job ( Timma! ), everyone who brought beer! and everyone else who brought in reading material and DVD’s (which I will be able to watch as of today because I’m getting my new laptop!) Thanks also to Barbara & Brian for taking the photos in hospital.
Finally a really big thank you must go to my ex-housemate Geoff who did a bit of a whip around and collected a substantial amount, which has enabled me to purchase my new laptop.
I was not only surprised by the amount raised, but more so by the generosity of my mates who contributed. It was totally unexpected and incredibly touching.
I must mention the importance of having good roommates when in hospital.
These particular people are with you essentially 24 hours a day.
The compatibility of the two ( in my case ) personalities makes a huge difference to your stay in hospital.
I am currently blessed to have a pretty good one at the moment. His name is Angelo and he had a street sweeper truck pull out in front of him as his was driving home. Impact speed approximately 80km/h. His got some lovely scaffolding built around his ankle and a fracture in his forearm / elbow due to the air bags failure to deploy.
My previous one at the Alfred was an unfortunate 72 year old chap whom a motorcyclist knocked off his bicycle, around 12 hours prior to my little altercation with the truck.
He had a very strong Yorkshire accent and a stutter. I suspect he was also a bit hard of hearing or maybe just not particularly interested in hearing anyone else speak.
I feel a bit bad because he was a nice old bloke, but had some idiosyncrasies that just drove me nuts.
Now, when you’re all busted up and bed bound, you just gotta use a pan. That’s all fine, I can live with the smell, it’s unavoidable.
I draw the line at receiving a running commentary though.
I was caught out at one point. Having just started to force myself into consuming some rather unappetising and barely identifiable lunch, I failed to realise that he was put on a pan. Halfway through the lunch he exclaimed proudly, like some sort of major achievement:
“I I I I’ve just had a shit!”
Not long afterwards my, the rather unpleasant taste of lunch was joined by an assault on my sense of smell, which I imagine those poor bastards in the WWI trenches would have recoiled in horror at.
Being that the senses of taste and smell are so closely related I need not explain what it felt like I was eating.
Having put away the cutlery and begun an exercise in body function control ( trying to prevent my very recently forced down lunch from forcing its way back up and taking flight ), he added:
“Ooh ooh, I’ve just done a bit more!”
Followed by:
“I feel a lot bet bet better now you know!”
Gee, thanks. I really needed to know that. My day is now complete in knowing that.
But just in case I’d forgotten later in the day:
“I had had had. I had a good shit before.”
Now I’ve mentioned his incredible snoring before, but he was also one of the noisiest eaters. Every meal was accompanied by a series of grunts, sighs, burps, moans and sometimes combinations of them all.
I did get some relief when he had to fast due to upcoming surgery, but that was then replaced by constant reminders that he’s
“…not allowed to to toot to eat anything, because I I’m I I I’m going to have an operation.”
I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who uses as many clichés either. This fellow seemed to have an incredibly annoying way of answering and generally stating the obvious in all the best known clichés.
“J j jj just got to remember, every day wer wer we’re getting better.” is just one example. You can imagine how infuriating that was.
As sorry as I felt for the old coot, I was glad to be moved to the rehab hospital.
My moving to Epworth meant a lot of changes. No more drips in the arm ( had about 9 ), better food, quieter room with a view ( of a pub I can’t get to amongst other things ), my first shower after two and a half weeks and a much more compatible roommate.
After a while, I even managed to convince the doctor to add beer to my drug chart. How good did that taste!!!!
Tomorrow will be six weeks since I was violated by the semi trailer.
