Gosh, I'm a famous author (huh?)

Today saw me experiencing a trip down memory lane with very mixed feelings ... a return to dear old Willow Ward at Northampton General Hospital where my cancerous bladder and various other (thankfully non-cancerous) organs were removed and recycled into the incinerator last May.

Purpose was to see my good friend Gillian who got there several weeks before me last May and is still there ... having been through the most awful time with surgery that went wrong, numerous other complications and a medical horror story that would shock a zombie or vampire. Thankfully she is finally on the mend.

As I passed by the nurses' station I caught site of a nice young HCA (health care assistant a.k.a. nursing auxiliary in old money) and said hello - I remembered him from my spell there.

"Hi, how are you now?" he replied.

"Surely to God you don't remember me?"

"Yes, I do. You're the author."

Fame at last! With the hundreds of women passing through that surgical ward he actually remembered "moi," because I, er, well ... wait a minute.

He probably remembered me after my late night ramblings, off my face on oramorph, when I expect I bored him and the other staff witless with ramblings about my books.

As my mind turned to "Heaven only knows what else I bored the poor lad with" I was tempted to slink out of there in shame.

But as I left he waved goodbye and asked me what new books I've got coming out. I told him (another one about horse jokes) ... but I kind of wished I had written one about the lovely, lovely staff on that acute surgical ward and the deep personal interest they take in all their patients.

I know the British NHS (National Health Service) has its faults, but you can't beat the dedication of its people.

And on a lighter note, enjoy this lovely old (pre-prohibition of flowers in hospitals) story ... how many nurses wish they had the chutzpah to do this?

A big shot business man had to spend a couple of days in the hospital. He was a royal pain to the nurses because he bossed them around just like he did his employees.

None of the hospital staff wanted to have anything to do with him. The head nurse was the only one who could stand up to him. She came into his room and announced, "I have to take your temperature."

After complaining for several minutes, he finally settled down, crossed his arms and opened his mouth.

"No, I'm sorry, the nurse stated, "but for this reading, I cannot use an oral thermometer." This started another round of complaining, but eventually he rolled over and bared his rear end.

After feeling the nurse insert the thermometer, he heard her announce, "I have to get something. Now you stay JUST LIKE THAT until I get back!"

She leaves the door to his room open on her way out. He curses under his breath as he hears people walking past his door laughing. After almost an hour, the man's doctor comes into the room.

"What's going on here?" asked the doctor.

Angrily, the man answers, "What's the matter, Doc? Haven't you ever seen someone having their temperature taken?"

After a pause, the doctor confesses, "Well, no. I guess I haven't. Not with a carnation anyway."

Wee-Wee Whoopsie

Happy New Year! And if you're thinking that you haven't much to celebrate, oh yes you have ... as a dear friend who at the age of 50 has advanced Multiple Sclerosis and I were saying on the phone earlier, "we're still here!" And if you're reading this, so are you.

I was just marking up my shiny new 2011 calendar with a string of medical appointments including one to visit the stoma nurses on January 20th.

The last time I went to have my urostomy checked out I thought I would entertain the nurse by telling her how the only two times I have experienced a wee-wee leak were times when the appliance was put on by a stoma nurse.


When we got to the point where a new bag was to be put back on me, she handed me the necessary equipment and with a snarl, said "You'd better do this yourself." UroKarma strikes again. No laughter. I looked around for a drain to crawl down.

Don't forget to check out Amy Marash's delightful blog, CancerIsSoFunny - her drawings are wonderful and her take on the funnier elements of her own cancer journey is priceless.

And for more wonderful humour that isn't health related - but amazingly, makes you cry with laughter without the use of a single smutty word or thought - have a look at Jeanne Robertson's website. She's 6 foot 2 inches tall, 68 years old, from North Carolina, and one of the funniest women I've ever observed on either side of the Atlantic.

Let's hope 2011 gives us even more to laugh about, and less to fear and loathe.

Sz xx