Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The Potential Ensuing Narratives That Will Occour While I'm In Hospital

(C) Natalie Dee

So it turns out that my wisdom teeth have, for some time now, been involved in an extremely elaborate turf war in the various ghetto areas of my mouth. Apparently, there's kind of a Bloods Vs. Crips thing going on in there, to the extent that the violence is over-spilling into the white-bread suburban areas of my mouth. Obviously, this will not do. The suburban white-bread teeth pay taxes, damnit, to live in the part of my mouth with the good private schools and the expensive juice-bars. So on Friday, I am going to hospital and getting four teeth removed. This will hopefully restore peace and harmony to the ethnic tensions at work in my gums.

I know it's odd, but I'm incredibly excited about this. I've always been blessed with a clear bill of health: I've never broken a bone, because as I've noted before, my childhood sporting history was virtually non-existent. I've never been sick with anything other then chicken pox, and the last time I was in hospital I was six and needed four stitches in my forehead. I've never even been in a hospital bed before. Suddenly, without much warning at all, I'm going to be put under general anesthetic (the sleepy kind) and some men are going to take some things out of my face and then afterwards there will be jelly and perhaps ice-cream. AND ALSO the weekend off work. This is really, really exciting for me. What I find even more exciting is the potential adventures I'm going to have while I'm in hospital.

I Will Befriend A Kindly Older Jewish Man

He won't be kindly when I first meet him. In fact, he will be crotchety and difficult. The nurses will be frustrated with him. He will refuse to take his pills. He will be initially dismissive of me. He will eventually be won over by my elfin features and curious ways. I will remind him of his own children, who do not visit anymore and who are all grown up and are total assholes. He will have a menorah on his bedside locker. He will share his boiled sweets with me. He will tell me about Auschwitz. He will reminisce about his dead wife. We will form a wonderful connection. One day, I will come to see him, and one of the younger nurses will be folding sheets on his now empty bed. She will say "Hes gone, Caroline." and it will take me a moment to realise the enormity of what has happened. He will have left me something sentimental to remember him by. There will be a letter to me. It will also be sentimental.

Something Will Be Strangely Amiss With The Hospital Staff

I will notice that the patients around me are not getting better, but are in fact getting sicker and are dying at an unnatural rate. There will be a head nurse who wears her hair in a bun and who will be gradually revealed as a sociopath. She is drugging the patients and making them sign things that gives her and her whole operation loads of money, and then she kills them with incorrect medication and pillows and stuff.


I will not be able to sleep one night. I will hear the sound of a child crying, only this is not a children's ward. Hospital staff will be shady about this. I will finally press an old black nurse about it, and she will tell me in a mystical old black Toni Morrison way that this ward is haunted. I will eventually confront the ghost, who turns out to be the ghost of a little girl whose mother had Münchhausen syndrome. She will make me deliver a message to her surviving family, more then likely about the Münchhausen syndrome. Something else will happen. Her soul will then be at rest.

28 Days Later Will Happen

Monkey feces everywhere.


  1. Can I have the Jew? He'd come in handy, in the next few months.
    Also, the biggest adventure I had getting mine removed was not realising thanks to my numbness that i was drooling vast quantities of blood. Once I was allowed get up n go to the bathroom, and saw this in the mirror, I got really excited n yelled at my mom THAT I LOOKED LIKE A ZOMBIE. She didn't think it was so cool though :(

  2. Your short-lived career as a thespian has really damaged your opinion of nursing staff, Caroline. I nominate myself to play the psychiatrist who helps you tackle this issue, while simultaneously sleeping with your husband, as part of your hospital drama.

  3. I have decided I am ok with this as long as my husband will a) eventually return to me and b) is played by a young Christian Slater

  4. If they try to make you drink a thick syrupy clear liquid and promise you it tastes like orange, don't do it.

  5. If you don't come back looking like Cillian Murphy after a heavy weekend in London (I'm convinced the movie is a metaphor for coping with hangovers), I'm going to extremely upset.