Vow of silence

The nurse begins the usual litany; name, first line of address, DOB, then, “in your own words, why are you here?…..” I’m tempted to launch into a philosophical debate, but settle instead for the procedure.

She runs through a list of ‘does and don’ts’ beginning with “you’ll be off work for 5 days…” I explain that I’m retired. “What do you do all day…?” Where to begin?

Luckily the anaesthetic kicks in and I don’t have time to answer. About an hour later, Anniemay is by my bedside and I’m wondering what just happened.

A little while later the surgeon appears; smiles, chats and shakes my hand. I’m too dozy to take in what he says. But I’ll see him again in a few weeks. Before he goes he continues the list of ‘does and don’ts’ .

Don’t speak for two days. (Really.) Use a pen and paper instead. Or charades? This is going to be fun.

Days 3-5; speak only for 5 minutes at a time, 3 times during the day.

After that, speak quietly.

And …. DO NOT LAUGH OUT LOUD. Moi? surely not.

So, I have to relax on the sofa for the next few days with a pile of Ingmar Bergman films, while Anniemay provides round the clock nursing care.

I know I shouldn’t, but there is something about this sign in the hospital car park that makes me want to chuckle. But I shouldn’t. Not only does it seem in poor taste, but I’d have to write it down as well.