as a yoot I’d properly smashed myself up courtesy of an over-active right wrist…….although this was connected to the throttle of a 600cc bike not a fragile banjo string (for once)
I thought I might be able to ‘do a Glastonbury’ and simply go without a poo whilst I was in hospital, but as it dawned on me I was going to be there for many weeks not just a few days I bowed to the inevitable and requested the paper tray for a bed-bound dump and had the curtains drawn around my bed. I won’t dwell on the effort to lift myself into position with feet, ankles, legs, wrists, hands and fingers all smashed, let alone that to squeeze out a monster dump whilst in a prone position……but there were tears in my eyes.
When done, and feeling quite proud of myself, I placed the tray on my legs and pressed the big red button for the nurse / HCA to take it away. Nothing happened for a minute or two until the curtain was pulled back by an entire crash team who then explained the difference the ‘call a nurse’ button and the ‘I’m dying’ alarm