Hospital Story: Part Two

In my teens and twenties, I experienced much mental anguish trying to make sense of the world and discover the meaning of life. None of the religions I studied could provide a satisfactory answer to the question, what is the purpose of my existence? All around me I saw suffering, cruelty, stupidity and absurdity. It was in the hope of discovering the elusive secret I was searching for that I chose to make a close examination of sickness, dying and death. When, after three years of working as a hospital orderly I was not rewarded with a mind-blowing revelation, I determined that, to give significance to this interlude in my life story, I would one day incorporate it into a larger narrative.

In The Life of Henry Fuckit, however, Henry’s motives were different to mine. I made him complicit in a murder that had gone undetected. Tormented by feelings of guilt, he determined to atone for his crime by sentencing himself to three years of community service as a hospital porter. This meant that when applying for this lowly position he would have to pretend to be poorly educated.

Matron Sharp was a small to medium sized woman in her late fifties. She looked very neat in her pale blue uniform, her figure was still trim, and her grey hair was cut short in the style of a pageboy. Petite. At some earlier stage she had probably been considered petite. Henry didn't take much notice of her facial characteristics once he had met her gaze. Her grey eyes were as independent and steady as twin gyroscopes, and he felt the urge to tilt his head back and expose his jugular to her. Maybe such a gesture of submission would elicit an atavistic response inhibiting her from tearing him to pieces with her mind and her tongue.

'So, you want me to give you a job as a porter, do you?' Her voice was calm and level, modulated ever so close to flat and bored. The eyes, which for close on forty years had been examining human reactions to physical and mental stress, now dispassionately awaited his reply.

'Yes, Matron.' He must be careful what he said. 'I was hoping there would be an opening for me.' He needed to create the impression of dimwitted honesty. 'I was an assistant storeman at Simonstown Dockyard, but the work was too difficult for me.' He tried to look gormless by letting his mouth fall open. 'I never had any form… um … I never went to a proper school, but I can read and write and do some arithmetic.' What was that flicker of something? Surely not amusement. 'My arms and legs are strong and I've got no back trouble, so I'm sure I'd be good at lifting patients and pushing them in wheelchairs and on trolleys.' What else could he offer? "I'm also willing to learn how to shave the body hair of male patients prior to sur… before they have their operations.' Fuck, she might think he was a pervert. 'Only if it's required of me, of course. And I live in Woodstock, you know.' He imparted this last piece of information because he understood this menial post of hospital porter to be one of those situations in South Africa reserved for poor whites - a form of sheltered employment. 'But I am of sober habits and God-fearing. Very God-fearing.' Should he chance a biblical reference or two? What the hell. 'Yes, it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. For even though the gate is strait and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it, happy is the man who fears the Lord and is only too willing to follow His orders.' Okay, don't overdo it, or she'll get suspicious. Had her expression hardened somewhat, become more stony? Maybe she thought this religious bullshit was insincere, which, of course, it was. 'I would like to do a job where I can help people, you know. When I was a little boy I wanted to be a doctor but I'm not clever enough for that.' Pathetic. And still no response. What did she expect from him? 'I don't have a criminal record or anything, Matron.' Not that it mattered. 'But I have had some troubles in my life.' Was she interested? Now he was really taking a chance. 'And as it says in the Good Book, 'When the wicked man turneth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive.' Finally! A sign of exasperation?

"The Bible also says 'The mouth of a fool poureth out foolishness.'"

'That's from Proverbs, isn't it?' The porter had been right - she had seen through him and he was fucked in his moer. Damn! 'There's truth in it, I suppose. Some of us can't help our foolishness. We're not all blessed with wisdom. And yet, as Ecclesiastes points out, although wisdom excelleth folly, and the wise man's eyes are in his head and the fool walketh in darkness, one event happeneth to them all. In short: How dieth the wise man? Answer: As the fool. All is vanity. Anyway.' And he fell silent, watching her, waiting for her to tell him to get out of her office. They regarded each other, she behind her desk, he standing before her. La femme regarde moi. Interesting woman, this. Must have been attractive when she was young. No rings on her fingers. Bound to be a story in her past explaining her dedication, accounting for the detachment in her eyes. Hey, was that surprise? A bit of colour in her cheeks. Good God, she's just realised I'm checking her out the way she's checking me out. Now I'm in for it.

'You're familiar with the term 'self-immolation'?' A trap. He couldn't lie to her. But how many hospital porters in the English-speaking world could reply in the affirmative? 'I know the meaning of it.' His voice was decidedly sulky. And why self-immolation? Shit, it wasn't possible. She had guessed his true intention in seeking such employment. A bloody mind-reader.

'Alright, you can start on Monday.' Again his mouth fell open, this time unintentionally. 'But not as a porter. You'd be of more use to me as an orderly. Do you know what an orderly does?'

'A white-clad goon who assists the nurses in the ward?'

'The orderly can be a most effective member of the nursing team. He walks in the shadow of the nurse, admittedly, but he is an integral part of the nursing process. A porter operates on the periphery, having only minimal contact with the patient and performing a very limited function. By contrast, the orderly is expected to form a relationship with the patient which is both caring and thoughtful. Through empathy he is able to put himself into the patient's psychological frame of reference and thereby understand and predict that person's feelings, thoughts and actions. Like a nurse, an orderly develops skills to alleviate suffering and cure ill-health. Or ensure a peaceful death. People have to be seen as biological, psychological and social beings. Therapeutic intervention has to be holistic, and take into account the biopsychosocial needs of a patient.' Biopsychosocial! Jesus, that's a mouthful. She certainly wasn't talking down to him. Getting a bit carried away.

'Yes, I see, Matron. But all that sounds rather theoretical. What would I actually have to do?'

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A Stitch in Time

“A stitch in time saves nine” is an old English proverb that advises one to take remedial action sooner rather than later. It harks back to the days when people would mend articles of clothing in order to prolong their usefulness.

This is an example of wind erosion that gradually undermined a structure until one day it toppled over and will have to be rebuilt at considerable cost.

Here is the bench on Granddad’s Path, which starts at the bottom of Marine Road. (It is called Granddad’s Path because my father was the one who blazed this trail through the veld more than 35 years ago.) It looks like it, too, will soon fall over if nothing is done to shore it up.

And this is the bench above the Rotunda parking area.

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Go Forth and Multiply

“And God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

Once upon a time, in the beginning, when the earth was flat, a troop of chimpanzees was fooling about in a big tree. While they were swinging on vines, or eating juicy fruit, or picking lice off one another, or masturbating and copulating to their hearts’ content, an extreme meteorological event took place.

A massive cumulo nimbus cloud came and hovered overhead. The wind died away, there was such a profound silence that even an ant could be heard farting, and then there issued from the black underbelly a bolt of lightning of such high voltage that it travelled at twice the speed of light and was consequently invisible to the naked eye. The accompanying clap of thunder was so deafening it could be heard at all four corners of the world.

Every single member of the troop fell straight to the ground and lay there like they were stone dead. But first one and then another stirred and sat up. They had not been killed but merely stunned. It was then that they began to behave differently. Instead of climbing back into a tree, they stood upright on their back legs and looked around with a mean glint in their eyes that was entirely new. The lightning strike had altered the chemistry in their brains and they now knew how to reason.

To outsmart their predators and kick the asses of other chimpanzee troops they understood the need to grow their brains. And to do that they would have to start eating meat, big time. They worked on this strategy with gusto until they reached the point where they could claim to be the alpha species in the animal kingdom.

Without predators to keep them in check, their numbers began to grow exponentially and it was not long before they started to fight amongst themselves and hive off into warring troops. There was constant conflict but one thing they had in common: they all believed in an almighty chimp who lived in the clouds and was on their side. It was he who encouraged them to fuck their enemies over without mercy. He also told them to stop masturbating and to concentrate on copulating in order to churn out as many little chimps as possible.

Soon the world was teeming with these critters. All the remaining wildlife was either eaten or driven to the ends of the world where they fell over the edge into nothingness. The fish in the ocean were eaten up and the sea became a stinking expanse of pure poison. When the rain came it was not water that fell from the sky but sulphuric acid, which killed off the remaining vegetation

In all this time, the chimps had continued to hump and multiply at a furious rate until there were so many of them there was hardly room to swing a cat.  To make things even more horrible sanitation broke down and they were walking around knee deep in their own filth. A pandemic struck and they cried unto the almighty one for help, only to be told not to panic and carry on with business as usual as everything was under control.

Under control? If war, famine and disease did not wipe out the entire population of chimps, then the remaining few who survived committed suicide by jumping into the abyss.

It was at this point that the earth shrivelled up into a spherical lump of rock, and from outer space it resembled a giant golf ball totally devoid of life. And that was that.

(From Fairy Tales and Nursery Rhymes)

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