INVASION OF THE COUNTRY COUSINS

 

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It has been my good fortune to discover, by observation and experience, how to attract visitors to one’s hospital bedside.

 

During my brief stay under such circumstances, it seems only reasonable to share this infallible discovery with others who find themselves, day after day, lying upon a bed of pain and sickness, but devoid of those welcome moments when friends and relatives pay a delightful call.

 

Of course, as will be evidenced by the following account, not all visitors can be described as “delightful”.

 

But to my recipe which should be in every hospital manual on how to attract visitors at any time of the day …. or night.

 

First you must turn on the television set – it will be found dangling precariously from the ceiling of your ward, just over the foot of your bed.  It reminds one of those early days when you were ten years old and loved to sit in the front seat of the local picture theatre.  You would come away with a stiff neck that lasted a day or two. 

 

So it is, you twiddle the channels of your TV until you find an exciting detective movie – Agatha Christie is admirable for such an occasion – and watch it.  Just at the crucial moment when you are about to discover “who dun it” (Was it Fung Chu the Chinese butler, Nurse Thistlewaite the glamorous American redhead, or Charlie the plumber with the blood-stained safety wrench protruding from his overalls pocket?) just as the detective says “The murderer is ……..” in they troop. 

 

It is as if your visitors have been hiding in the corridor awaiting this opportune time to make their noisy entrance.

 

Uncle Bert’s booming voice welcomes you with “Hello there, my boy, I see you’ve lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you, and your hair is much thinner”.  It is an introduction that drowns out the detective’s identification of the guilty party and it is followed by a bone-crunching handshake that seems to dislocate three of your knuckles.  You strain your eyes at the television to see who is being arrested, but Aunty Clara’s huge bulk obscures your vision as she leans over to give you a kiss, if kiss it can be called.  By the time she has finished, a commercial for cat food beams down upon you.  Uncle Bert has commenced his speech on the 49 cows he had milked earlier that morn.  “Had to catch the 9.07 don’t you know.  Used to have 50 cows but one of them died two weeks ago and now Bessie isn’t giving as much milk as she should.”

 

Aunty Clara has her own favourite subject.   She seeks to drown out Uncle Bert with an account of the rise in the price of beetroot.  “It’s terrible” she says, “scrawny little things they are without much colour in them.  Not like the ones we used to grow on the farm, were they Bert?”

 

But Bert’s mind is elsewhere – “Bessie nearly kicked over the bucket this morning.  It was only half full though.   There’s a farmer a couple of blocks away who wants to buy her”.

 

“Still going on about your cows” cuts in Aunty Clara, “He’s not interested in such matters are you love?”  She continues her explanation of the beetroot conspiracy.  “It’s the greengrocers, they’re the ones who have put the price up, not the farmers.  Doesn’t cost any more to grow beetroot today that it did ten years ago.”

 

This verbal tsunami continues for ten minutes until you do not know whether the price of cows is going up or you are receiving instructions as to how to squeeze beetroots.

 

And then, enter Cousin Agnes – not forgetting her 5 year old daughter Betsy – sometimes called Betsy the Brat for obvious reasons.  After another of those country kisses – which for some reason put one in memory of Bessie the cow, there are introductions all round.  “Uncle Bert, meet Cousin Agnes.  Cousin Agnes meet Aunty Clara, and this must be Bessie – er – Betsy – who’s a sweet child.”

 

At least, now they talk to each other for ten minutes but all you can see on the TV screen is the detective waving goodbye and driving off into the sunset.

 

Betsy, meantime, has decided to ‘sing’ in her screechy voice to other members of the sick bay.  How anyone can forget the words of “We wish you a merry Christmas” is anyone’s guess but Betsy does it admirably.  This is followed by her impersonation of an ambulance, siren wailing, as she and then runs up and down the outside corridor.  A nurse eventually returns her – somewhat forcibly – to Cousin Agnes who gives a mild ‘Must be quiet in hospital Betsy, just look how sick your cousin is’.

 

And then Cousin Agnes introduces the stimulating, fascinating, unique subject of the weather “It’s warm outside today” she explains, “Not like last Tuesday, so cold, I wore my new cardigan for the first time; knitted it myself.  Betsy, stop bouncing on the bed … It’s a lovely mauve colour.”  Now Aunty Clara gets interested in this exciting new subject.  The price of beetroot is forgotten.  “What size needles did you use?” she asks.  “Fourteen” says Cousin Agnes and the two of them pursue the same theme interminably.  Eventually Uncle Bert glances at his watch – “Mmm, getting late” he says “Don’t want to miss the start of that new James Bond movie we are planning to see”.

 

That did it!  Like a departing horde of locusts at a secret signal, they bid adieu, telling you how good it was to see you before it was too late (whatever that implied!) and they make their welcome exit.

You lie back gasping for breath, you give an apologetic look to other occupants of your ward, turn out the light and try to sleep.

 

But sleep escapes you.  Your mind is abuzz with ‘who dun it’, Why was the butler Chinese? And why was the nurse an American – and a redhead at that!!  As for the plumber – was there any significance in that bloodstained safety wrench?  You go over the clues, trying to fit the pieces together.  To no avail.  By 2.00 am you doze off, still none the wiser as to who was the guilty party …..

 

Twenty minutes later a nurse’s flashlight shines in your eyes. You awaken with a start.  A voice says – do you detect an American accent?  “Drink this … it will help you sleep”  Through bleary eyes you reach out for the extended glass ….  “I’m the night nurse” she says “Nurse Thistlewaite”.   And in the glow of her flashlight you detect her red hair………

 

 

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