Posted by sigismund on October 11, 2013, at 19:28:02
The hospital was quiet.
The blind man opposite never said much to anyone. His wife came every day but had gone home.
Every so often he cried out
'Help! Help!'
The dying man thought him a fool, and a Christian to boot.
'There's no f*ck*ng help!' he shouted back.
'Help! Help!'
'What kind of help do you think there could be?'
The dying man was starting to enjoy himself.
'Help me God!'
'There's no f*ck*ng help and there's no f*ck*ng God either.'
The dying man turned to his brother
'You see that man next to me? He's a big as a horse and in that case there are enough guns to kill us all. I want you to throw him out of his bed and get him out of here.
His brother thought quickly.
'I see. But that is a guitar case and this is a public hospital. I can't just throw him out of his bed. But I am willing to talk more about it.'
'Don't patronise me.'
'Help!' from opposite.
'There's no f*ck*ng help and we are all going to die. Get it though your thick head.'
He turned to his mother.
'We'll both be dead by the end of the year.'
'Speak for yourself.'By this stage we were all helpless with laughter. As good as Beckett I thought.
The policeman had come from the UK for a holiday in the sun. Some narrowing of the spinal chord, two botched operations, paralysis and constant pain. He was never going back and never complained.
'I need something for the pain.'
'I can get you a Panadeine Forte' said the nurse.
'Something stronger?'
He was turning green.
'I'll see what I can do.'
poster:sigismund
thread:1052016
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20130914/msgs/1052016.html