So, ‘a friend’ was telling me the other day about being caught out by having to go to hospital and not being prepared for the eventuality. Like when your Nan used to tell you to put on clean underwear every day “just in case you get run over”.
Having to dress in a hurry and realising on arrival that she hadn’t shaved her legs for months and was sporting a bikini line like something from “I’m a Celebrity get me out (of this bush!)” with matching tash & wispy chin.
She had a red thong on and some old grey cotton non-underwired non padded bra that just hung on her “like some old grey saggy teacloth”. When she tried to remove said bra during the night she got it all caught up in her surgical gown and then realised she couldn’t get the bra off over her canula, so the nurses found her in the morning sporting an interesting decorative addition to herself with the aforementioned raggy old brassière hanging from her drip feed tube.
I had initially phoned her to see if she was alright and we just ended up in pleats of laughter on the phone as she described the scene and I just pictured it in my head. You know when you just get an image stuck in your mind?
Happened again today when I only just maintained professional & politically correct composure when one of my young charges grumbled that (and I quote) “I don’t want to do gymnastics Miss, cos it’s just for spastics”.
Don’t deny that you didn’t smirk a little just then.