A calming, professional voice will say:
'This'll relax you.' followed by a prick -
in the arm that is.
It's the precursor to surgical la la land
I'll know nothing about it until -
(I've been there before)
waking up in Intensive Care with tubes
of all sorts connected, doing all sorts of
recovering things.
As the fog lifts and my eyes open I'll
realise I'm alive, even if I feel, and I will,
like shyte.
Oh dear, I do hope those 'recovering things' don't include putting your hands up the IC nurses' skirts... tsk tsk. love Nurse Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'm not sure they allow 'shyte' in hospitals Jerry, because it is unhygienic, so you'll have to find something else to feel like. Ha! How about a strong glass of brandy. Box of chocolates. Grapes. Dishy nurse.21 again. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX