Bravely struggling on

**********************************************8

Yesterday, Gwen made me a trifle. It was a trifle unexpected.

I think she did it because she felt sorry for me: I have had a stinking cold for the past week and have been quite depressed, what with one thing and another.

And I had been to the hospital to collect my hearing aid. (Yes, I know: what a sad state of affairs, that one so young should require artificial aids to living. I’m not complaining though; Gwen’s brother has just been fitted with… no, I can’t – it is just too awful.)

As I approached the main entrance, my spirits were briefly lifted as a ray of sunlight broke through a cloud, and glanced off the corrugated iron roof of the consultants’ bike-shed.

The Audiology department is at the end of a long corridor. On the way I passed the various clinics: Orthopaedic, GUM, Dental, Dermatology, Gynaecology, Oncology (and various other sinister sounding ‘…ologies). On past Paediatrics, Podiatry (that’s a posh name for chiropody, isn’t it?)
I never knew it was possible to have so many things wrong with you.
And in the open waiting areas (all seats taken), anxious faces, staring straight ahead or at the floor. No one talking.

People shuffled, hobbled, limped, crutched, wheel-chaired their way past me, many bent and twisted grotesquely. Faces floated by: pale faces, purple faces, scarred and bruised faces, bandaged faces. Faces balanced on top of fearsome neck braces, like an egg in an eggcup. And I thought: we go and build this lovely new hospital, and in no time at all it’s full of sick people.
Does this mean that if you really want to improve the nation’s health you should build fewer hospitals? But seriously folks, I am a real champion of the National Health Service. Perhaps if Mr Obama gets elected you may get one in America

Anyway, if you must have something wrong with you, try and make it in the region of the ‘earoles: the clinic is much smaller, and they have some very pretty young ladies who treat you so nicely.

My hearing aid has cured my paranoia: now I can actually hear people talking about me. No, really it is brilliant. It is like rejoining the world, with the advantage that you can switch of the aid - and therefore the world – when things get too much.

And another strange thing is that I seem to be able to see people more clearly when I am wearing it – no, I really do. Perhaps it’s an illusion but people’s faces seem sharper, more vivid, a bit like those new High Definition tellies – though I haven’t got one myself.

Oh, and this morning Gwen caught me talking to the animals. They’re not real animals, they’re stuffed. There are two bears and two dogs. They really belong to the grandchildren but they have grown too old now to play with them. They just sit there in the bedroom – the animals not the children – and I sort of feel sorry for them. They look so lonely. So I often have a quick word as I am passing.
Gwen said to me “What are you doing?”
“I’m talking to the animals” I replied.
“Well they won’t answer you back.”
“You never know.” I retorted, “One of these mornings… they just might.”
She just looked at me, and left the room.

(Oh and by the way, RJ - I tried that vinegar stuff you recommended. It's horrible. I ate a packet of strong mints and still couldn't get rid of the taste.)