Living Down the Road from the Hospital

I don’t know if it’s something to be proud about, but living down the road from the hospital can be sweet and sour, and no it’s not a case of bad Chinese takeaway.

So the question might pop up, ‘what’s so good about you’, ‘well, I live down the road from the hospital’. It almost sounds as if you are one of the doctors doing their rounds, ‘Doctor who?’ ‘Yeah, good show that, you seen it’ (TV show Doctor Who). Or you have survived a mine-field of operations and lived to tell the tale, why, because it’s any excuse to get back into the hospital you so dearly love, you hypochondriac. They’ll class you as a ‘hospital-case’; instead of ‘quick to the bat-cave’, it’s, ‘quick, to the….hospital’ (wow, I can’t wait).

Perhaps you’ve become the local historian and one hell of a blabber mouth, ‘hospital this, and hospital that’; yes Mr and Mrs know-it all. Maybe we should gather the kids around the fireplace and you can explain one of your 1000-and-one hospital stories. Better make sure the kids have a bucket nearby the way you explain it.

If you’re a male you should not put yours hands up, unless your Arnold Schwarzenegger, but maybe you have encountered a very pregnant individual, I did say females only now. In other words, ‘they’re gonna pop’. And what do you say, you hospital historian and story-teller, hypochondriac and Doctor Who, ‘don’t worry hun, we live down the road from the hospital. We’ll walk there’. ‘Oh, oh, oh: I love our walks to and from the hospital. But there is only one thing.’ ‘What that hun?’ ‘I’m bloody pregnant you idiot and I said I’m gonna pop any minute. I love our hospital but not that much. What is this, one of your historian guided tours.’ ‘Ah, um, it’s my hospital hun, I’m the one with the love affair with our local hospital.’ ‘Which isn’t even private, it’s the bloody public hospital system you idiot’.

Don’t you just feel the hospital is calling for you, beckoning for you (woh boy woh), until you feel the ‘hospital-love’, finally rocking up at the door and are faced with 8-10 hours of waiting, ‘c’mon I’m your number one fan what’s going on, where’s the hospital love’ (yeah, you want some love join the queue). There should be male and female model nurses and doctors to greet and look after you, straight from Playboy, FHM and catwalks of Paris, New York and Milan. I bet you feel better now. Now isn’t playing doctors and nurses really cool, or should I say, hot, hot, hot.

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