Many years ago, my mother had a knee replacement, and I wrote a ‘humerus’ (sorry, couldn’t resist even though I know that’s in your arm) poem about them searching for her brain but having her chart upside down. By all accounts it went down rather well at her ladies’ group when they had a ‘Bring and Tell’ one afternoon.
A friend had an op a little while ago to remove a lump from her neck.
After the clips had been removed, she felt the lump was still there and when she had her follow up appointment this week, pointed it out to her consultant.
It appears that a mistake had been made and a swollen saliva gland removed instead of the lump, so she has to undergo surgery again next week. Hopefully this will be carried out by the consultant himself and not one of his erring colleagues.
I took her round a little something to cheer her up, and with her permission, this is what I wrote inside my card:
A simple op, that’s what they said,
An overnight stay in a hospital bed.
Snoring neighbours were an added perk,
Shame the sleeping pills didn’t work.
Now it transpires they got it wrong,
Leaving the bad, taking out the strong,
It’s still there, that thing giving you gip,
Makes you wish they’d put in a zip.
But worry not, help is at hand
With these, some tips from Alice Land.
Drink and Eat Me, the labels say,
They’ll help you keep the blues at bay:
Anaesthetic? just hand over the Gin
It won’t matter if they keep you in,
You can sing and dance, and not get cross
Because by then you won’t give a toss!