Short Story: The Hip Replacement

Short Story: The Hip Replacement

My home's a mess from building work; - the builder's done, but I'm a burk;

I planned to do the floors myself, to save some money, but then health,

(and a dodgy Kango) stopped me short, with a half-done floor and no support.

My family's all too far away; Impractical for me to stay

with any one of them at all, - and neighbours? - Useless if I fall...

It all adds up to quite a mess; I've just myself to blame I guess...

my hip was just that bad you see? I couldn't wait, you must agree;

I jumped when offered the earlier date, and now it's done it's all too late...

So this is hospital, - oh dear... I've had enough of it I fear,

'cos when you've finished lying there, your innards feeling oh so queer;

The operation's all sewn up, you came round hours ago, drank a cup

of tea or coffee, felt quite sick, and beeping sounds get on your wick...

then what d'you do when you've read your book, or done your puzzles, (no time they took),

eaten some grapes, - watched next door's bed, hoping the occupant isn't dead...

They're far to ill to talk at all; to speak to the others you'd have to call, -

and they're quite deaf so there's no point; you just feel oddly out of joint...

Ev'ry now and then blood-pressure's guaged, your pulse assessed, your thirst assuaged;

Your temp'rature's annoyingly low, you try to walk, but you're so slow;

and sitting on bed-pans for... you know... it's hard to get into the flow...

The meal-times are the day's high-lights, - unless you've visitors with delights...

So on you sit, in bed or chair; you've cleaned your teeth and brushed your hair,

begin to wonder what you're doing there, and try to keep from sheer despair.

The days go by, you snooze and mope, and wonder if there's any hope...

Then doctor says, "Here's your discharge!"... at last you're free, and out you barge!