Here I am on M1 ward (Redux)13:52 Jul 13 2010
Times Read: 811
Here I am on M1 Ward,
sittin on my bed –
And, I’m not bored.
Although I’m in here
and it’s sunny outside –
I’ve thoughts to quell
of discord and fear.
I know what to expect –
I’ve been here before.
So the unknown it isn’t
Yet, in a way
That is the problem –
I know what to expect.
And the staff I’ve met,
who know me
from last time
didn’t run away
as I walked through the door.
What was good,
was noting the
welcoming smile
wasn’t fixed.
It was, to me,
proof evident,
if it were needed
that the staff here
are real –
and treat the person,
as just that.
At least I think so –
I’ve got another
Two and a half days to go!
My Primary Care Nurse was
filling in reams of paper,
in reference to me…
And while she talked
and took my pulse and
temperature, the fellow
with the walrus ‘tache,
in the next bed, had visitors.
He’d smiled and said,
“I’ll let you make up your own mind
on the food…” adding, “I’ve just had
one meal since I got here…” and
“I’m sure we serve better food to the
cons…”
As my opinions on the green
differs from the law,
I’d picked up on what was said
as it was said.
It was also of note, I’d thought,
That this fellow, the one with the
‘tache, was the son… of my ex-
headmaster, at Secondary School.
Now, call it
me being me –
But, having learnt what I had…
I had to do something, say something;
I just had to…
Well… on my brief tour
of the ward,
when talking of art and stuff,
with my smiling Primary Care Nurse,
I learnt that she liked,
the written word.
So, on our return,
I recited my poem
‘Bunk Bed Blues’ –
about bricks, little space; and the
confinement, of four walls.
For me, there was no surprise,
When the fellow in the next bed,
[the one with the ‘tache]
went quiet ~ his nose in a book.
I’ll lay odds, the fellow
doesn’t smoke the green…
of that, I’m fairly sure.
At just after seven,
a long-legged
short-denim-skirted
vision in pink,
stood at the entrance
to the ward.
More than once I’ve
Thought ~
“I’d like to take
a photograph of her.”
Britney Spears was the
image, that my friend
had chosen for me!
Knowing I’d at least
Two shots left on a roll
of film, of twenty-four,
she’d suggested I bring
my camera with me.
At her suggestion
and my request
my friend had
taken her jacket off.
All legs and twirling
blonde hair, in a top
that just about was –
she’d stood by a tree and,
I’d taken my shot,
with a grin on my face,
stretching
from ear to ear.
“Where are the toilets?”
she’d asked, to which
I’d replied,
“You could’ve used
the one’s on the ward.”
“Oh no,” said she,
“I’d wanted to change…”
then pointing to a pink
carrier-bag, she’d added,
“for your surprise!”
So, I’d minded her
handbag, sitting in the
bus-shelter style
smokers corner,
while she’d gone
to change.
As I’d waited,
a fellow in a wheel-chair,
with just one leg,
came out for a smoke.
As we chatted
an rambled
about something
and nothing,
until she returned.
When she did
I realised,
she’d recalled a fantasy
I’d told her of:
of a very male imaging – and
a very sexy sixth form
schoolgirl.
And there she was,
minus jacket,
once again –
dressed in a very
short wraparound
grey belt, masquerading
as a skirt;
white shirt, tie
and golden ring-e-lets.
Again by the tree
my friend posed
to tease, looking
down, with her eyes
directed, straight to the lens.
I’d taken the shot,
pleased with the
light, being as
bright as it was –
at that time of night
Having taken the shot
I’d wound on the film
and to my delight,
found another shot left.
She’d turned, her
left side toward me;
dipped her back,
then pushed outward
her pert derriere.
Short grey skirt,
long, smooth legs
and a pose
that said to me –
‘I am sweet and sexy,
you can look, at me.’
I did more than look.
I held the camera steady,
(although I know not how) -
as I used that last shot.
Then we’d sat awhile
and talked – and
she’d flipped apart
that short, short skirt,
to display the legend,
in pink, on white, ‘cutie.’
As I sighed,
My eyes opened wide –
And she’d said to me,
“Well, you had to, it was
part of your surprise.”
That was my friend’s visit:
and though there was more
I could say – it wouldn’t be,
just couldn’t be, enough…
She’d wanted to
make me smile,
before my op –
and… she had.
But, by then it’d
been quite late,
nearly eight: and it
was getting quite dark.
At least I knew
the 410 bus would
get her home –
and that she’d get from
just across the road.
So, we’d hugged our
‘goodbyes’ and
I’d returned to the ward,
for a hot drink and
an antiseptic bath.
And, I’m first on the list
tomorrow, I am told:
and that is good –
less waiting around.
The only thing –
and it isn’t a problem,
is that, at about six,
I’ll be bathing again –
so, I’ll be ready for my op…
And it is with a smile
I still remember the face
of the fellow, in the
wheelchair…
And I’m sure, that
he appreciated
her appreciated
her surprise, for me,
as much as I do –
For with a grin, he’d
Said to me, “No nurse
had better come for me
to take my blood pressure now!
It’ll be well high!”
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