the prick
almost 2 years ago, i spent 5 days in the rather lovely east riding hospital in not-so-lovely hull. i was in a very small ward, just 4 beds, each with fans and overhead t.vs. very comfy.
there were 2 men and 2 women in the ward, all of us having gastric surgery. the man in the bed next to me was john.
now, john was a good 6ft 6, a bit porky, but only needed to lose a stone or two. as a result, his g.p had advised him not to have the surgery, as he didn't need it.
john did not agree.
it soon became apparent that john didn't agree with anyone about anything. his sneering disdain very quickly pissed on our collective chips. it took less than an hour for the 3 of us to decide we really didn't like him.
the next day was Operation Day. the woman opposite me went first, then me, then the nice bloke across the way(terry), then john.
now, anyone who's had gastric bypass surgery will know that it's keyhole surgery and fairly painless, meaning we were all quite chirpy within 2 hours of waking up.
not john, oh no.
he moaned and complained the entire time, constantly pressing his buzzer to tell the nurses he was in "excruciating pain". this was bullshit. he was full of as much morphine as they could possibly give him and his pain would instantly vanish as soon as his mates phoned him.
when he realised he wasn't getting maximum sympathy, he got sneaky. he pulled the curtain round his bed and, believing he couldn't be seen proceeded to twist his drip tube every couple of minutes, which would set the alarm off and bring the nurses at a run.
eventually, terry told him he could see what he was doing and he'd told the nurses.
john didn't like this, so he started poking and picking at his staples, until he finally managed to open one of his incisions and get his germy fingers in there. cue an emergency call to the surgeon and a second trip to theatre.
as much as i hated him, i felt terribly sorry for his poor, downtrodden wife. now, if your partner comes to visit you in hospital, it's only natural that you downplay how bad you feel so as not to worry them, isn't it?
not john.
he spent every second of her visits saying the pain was so intense that he wanted to die. the poor woman was an emotional wreck.
the final straw came 2 days later, when we were all getting our delightful thrombosis stockings removed. a male nurse came in with soap and warm water, to give our legs a bit of a wash. john refused to lift his own feet 6 FUCKING INCHES off the floor to stick them in the bowl. he just looked at the nurse and said "that's what you're paid for". i'd had enough now. "no it isn't, you lazy shit," i said, "lift your own feet up, you're not a cripple." very grudgingly, he did.
unfortunately, i'd pissed him off, so he decided to make my last night in hospital as unpleasant as he could. he set his alarm off over 30 times, coughed and pretended to snore as loudly as he could, kept his light on all night and shouted for the nurses instead of using his call button.
i spent my last night there sleeping on a chair in the corridor.
as i was leaving the next day, he gave me a smarmy grin and said "keep in touch, yeah?" "not fucking likely, you prick", i replied.
i really felt sorry for those nurses, they were lovely and he treated them like shit.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 13 Mar 2010, 1:46, 1 reply)

hmmmm.....
perhaps a bar of soap wrapped in a towel would have kept him a bit more 'quiet'

just watch Full Metal Jacket for more details!

what a sad little man
(Lip Up Fatty Fatty Reggae still loves BBQ food on, Sat 13 Mar 2010, 16:59, closed)