Ate expired good cheese, germs caused bloody shit;
Purge was so massive, frugal had no wit.
Hands on saline drip, whipped on toilet trips;
Hard for legs to lift,prayers on my lips.
Buy and throw is waste, price-rise make us chase;
Housewives act in haste, brisk paces to trace.
Thrifty turns costly, fear burdens the bill.
No frills is no thrill, extra gives the chill.
Bless with few symptoms, mercy still prevail;
Make us all worthy, peace effort avail.
Ache by the sick bed, pain keeps one awake;
A day hard to take, long stay miss daybreak.
Swear words are taboo, strong words to shout pain;
Twist in life is strange, the twain meets in vain.
Note:
On Sunday mid night I was admitted with massive bloody diarrhoea, , liked the picture shown above, except it was 15 times more profuse. After the download, I felt weak and sweaty and pale and called my wife. She was equally alarmed. It was middle of night , the fear of what might happened during the night , and the status of diabetes and hypertension might played up with blood sugar, BP, and fluid lost. I was wheeled in at ICU unit Gleneagles Hospital, Singapore, and then transferred to ward, for the last available bed. The mattress was not comfortable, and with a saline/dextrose drip, and the light, I could hardly sleep. I suffered another two episodes of such bleeding in the hospital. In the toilet it was hard to undress my pyjamas and pampers and underwear in the small space, with a bad knee. I managed to do all that, feeling exerted and weak, and rested in the toilet bowl, then pulled the string for help to my bed, and re-continued the drip. I knew few nurses were available in night shifts, and thought best to let other patients who suffered more, to have more care and attention.
I was discharged the next day, despite the continued bleeding. It was food poisoning, caused by E. Coli, of all germs. Thank God, I was the only one affected. Antibiotic was started, and the doctors expected I would be well. In my GP practice I had never encountered such severe Food Poisoning, and a lesson for me to learn after retirement for eight years. The bed was needed by another patient.
I could not sleep and there was an overhanging TV, with Channel news. It was showing Music Therapy of Afghanistan. In the ward, you could not turn on the volume louder, and I followed up on my return home. It was encouraging to watch. Similarly I had my poetry therapy, and I though best to write in Sonnet, and titled it Bloody Shit.
The pictures were copied and pasted from the net, with appreciation to their owners. I had problems posting mine, and too weak to show except the hospital food and my bloody shit at home. All the pictures were sent to my family members and friends to watch, with the words that the toilet bowl was not part of the food supplied. (The hospital food was excellent and healthy, with steamed cod fish, and even coffee.) My brother commented I was a bad joker. I told him it was good to laugh at yourself at times. My wife asked how come I was the only one infected. I replied, it was good to have me alone suffered, rather than all. On my return home, the grand kids came to hug and offered help in carrying food. I am very touched that they learn to care and have concern for another.
wonkywizard 