When something is funny but not funny, I think it falls into the category of slapstick, or black, comedy. Like this poor little pigeon outside the hospital, in amongst all the rubbish of urban, but having a ball!
Yesterday, when I left the hospital to come home to the farm, Son was still pretty ‘out of it’ and unable to move or eat. My mother took over staying with him and rang me later to say that he was like Lazarus in the afternoon and the physiotherapists and pain team were able to wind the bed up so he was nearly sitting up. He gobbled his lunch and didn’t vomit so all was going very well.
Late this morning, however, I found out that in the middle of the night he’d hallucinated. Here is a paraphrase of what Son told me on the phone:
“Oh Mum, I thought I was in a disco, so I got up and pulled all of my tubes out and went to the toilet, then I was doing this shaking dance move, then they rescued me but I didn’t get the pain button back for three hours so I wanted to die and what if I’ve ruined the operation?”
According to the nurses, all is well despite the incident but hell! I am now WAITING for the doctor who was called in to ring me – argh.
A friend rang yesterday afternoon, before Son’s midnight adventure, and I said, “I can’t believe I have a husband in a nursing home on my left and a son in hospital on my right, and they are both neurologically challenged and 200 kilometres apart!”
She said, “Are you okay?” and I said, “Yeah, I feel like I’m in one of those weird comedies!” and she said, “That’s a good way of looking at it.”
I mean crying gets really boring after awhile, so I’ve discovered bellylaughing; it’s much better for the soul – hehe!
jmgoyder 