Thursday 23 January 2020

Incognito



They sat around the darkening, dismal ward,
Waiting for further bits to crumble and fall,
These ancient London gangsters from south
Of the river reminiscing gruffly from mouths
Once snarling, snapping and barking at all ...

One looked up, noticing me in my far corner;
Curtains retaining the dignity of my former
Self.

I had not spoken; I had not awoken; I had not
Broken.

I wondered if his name was Alf?

"Are you a bit shy?" said the ninety-year-old.

"No," said I, adding:

"I'm travelling incognito."

"Why?" 

His eyebrows rose slowly. Not wholly. 
"What the f*** does that even mean?"

"It means," said I,

"I'm 
Travelling
Incognito."

"Good-bye."





Ward Off



To ward off a vampire, one requires a
silver crucifix, garlic and holy water.
To ward off corporeal mortality, however,
one might be tempted to become a vampire.

Seán Manchester

UPDATE ON OPERATION PERFORMED YESTERDAY (22 JANUARY 2020) ON SEAN MANCHESTER

 -------- Message --------
Subject: Re: Seán
Date: Thu, 23 Jan 2020 14:44:44 +0000
From: Sarah Manchester
To: Lawrence || Arturo

When I said fine (in my previous email to El Auren), I meant he survived the anaesthetic!

Originally, he was going to have the nuclear scanning business the same day as the surgery, but they telephoned Monday and said "everything's been changed, surgery is Wednesday morning NOT afternoon" and "can you go to CT nuclear department Tuesday at 1pm instead." I reminded them that Seán has his pre-op assessment at 3pm on Tuesday. "No problem," they said.

We had a good journey there, thanks to my new Sat Nav. It even took us off the route before the M4 because of an hour-long delay due to debris in the road, so we made it in just over 2 hours. We got a bit snagged up in traffic in Tooting, but only round the corner from the hospital so it wasn't stressful and we were in plenty of time to eat a spot of lunch.

We headed off to the CT dept before 1pm but at the reception, they said +Seán wasn't booked in until the next morning, which was the original appointment. I explained we'd had a phone call to come in a day early and they said to go ahead into the nuclear waiting area and they would be aware of the adjustment. After a little while, and having thought about it, I couldn't see how they would know about it if it wasn't on the booking system. I argued for several minutes with the two gormless idiots at the desk, insisting they 'phone someone to have it sorted out. One imbecile went to ask a senior lady around the corner what to do and she took it upon herself to go to the radiographers and speak to them in person, and, of course, they knew nothing about the appointment change either and weren't expecting Seán, but would 'phone the appropriate consultant to get it sorted out. 

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking and the pre-op time was fast approaching. After another 20 minutes, I went back to reception and insisted they chase things up again, reminding them about the pre-op appointment at 3pm.  Anyway, the nuclear deapartment liased with pre-op people and seemed to rush the radioactive procedure to find where the lymph nodes were situated. They only found them on the left side. Nothing showed on the right side. Time was running out because blood tests in pre-op had to be ready by 4.30pm or they would miss being taken to the laboratory. The radiography technician claimed that some people only have nodes on one side and that all the necessary nodes had been found. The consultant would later confirm that this is simply not true.

Hence, the next day, before surgery, Seán (first on the list to be operated upon) was told that there are always lymph nodes on both left and right sides, and that he would have to come back in approximately 4-6 weeks if he is recovered enough to have the other side done. What a nightmare!

At the moment, Seán is in considerable pain and things are starting to swell up. He's emotionally and physically traumatised and very upset that through no fault of ours, he is going to have to go through it all again! That's a lot of quite painful invasive syringe needles over 48 hour period, plus, of course, another deep incision of at least three inches width. 

Loads more gripes, such as the hospital is so hot, especially the ward he was on. etc, etc.

Seán disliked every moment spent in South London, albeit the periphery, because of its dark, alien, toxic atmosphere and aura. The only thing that pleasantly surprised him as we neared the hospital was an apple green tram on rails with a pole connecting to an electricity supply via an overhead cable. That put a broad smile on his face, raised his spirits, and made his blue eyes sparkle.

He is now glad to be home and I am looking after his every need, as a loving wife should.

Sarah


On 23/01/2020 10:19, Lawrence wrote:

> How is he?
>
> Sent from my iPhone

-------- Message --------
Subject: wishing you well
Date: Wed, 22 Jan 2020 10:33:07 +0000
From: Arturo
To: Sarah Manchester

Dear Sarah,
You may be able to pick up mail at your hotel so if you can let me
send you all my best wishes to you both and know that my thoughts are
with you.
art xx

-------- Message --------
Subject:  welcome home
Date:  Sat, 25 Jan 2020 19:05:54 +0000
From:  Arturo
To:  Sarah Manchester

Just got in Sarah, I have been out all day and just checked my mail.
Mixed feelings, great to hear that you are home but what a nightmare
of an experience at the hospital. Such frustration in a position when
you were so vulnerable and then to have to go through it all again.
You need a good rest. I do hope that Sean's pain soon eases and that
you can put the experience of the hospital's incompetence behind you.
All of my love.
art xx


Françoise