Sometimes you wanna

I don’t want to go there. It’s a hospital. That’s where everybody knows my name. It feels surreal whenever I go there. I feel like the lead in a bad TV program. Everyone waves smiles and wants to talk. I feel like a celebrity. How are you Andrew, they ask? Fuck it. They all know my name. I don’t remember anyone’s name. coma, coma, bang. bang. Now I’m always sick and known for it. That’s why everyone knows my name. I spent almost a year in the spinal ward of the hospital and have had trouble with my bladder ever since. Today the professor used high frequency ultrasound to blast the three small stones that had formed in my bladder into little pieces. Once they were blasted he then pulled the blasted pieces out of the eye of my dick. Some people get a jar and take the little pieces home with them. I’ve woke and never wanted to know about it. Forgetting is not a problem for me.

There is no blood this time. There is no blood coming out of the eye of my cock. That’s probably because my hearts empty. The first time I had the procedure I woke feeling like throwing up. I pulled my gown up to see dark red oozing out the eye of my penis. Today I woke remembering nothing. Today there was none from my cock but my urine was full of clots of blood. The last time I had an operation in the urology ward I think I woke up in the middle of surgery. I asked one of the nurses today if it had actually happened. I told them I remembered waking up vomiting bile. I remember saying sorry. It felt like my abdomen was on fire. The lights above me burned like the sun. I vomited bile again and again apologised. I was vomiting into a mask on my face. The air through the mask tasted thick and sweet. I couldn’t see below my chest, there was a big green tent over me. It felt like someone had sliced me open. It was the worst pain. Two nurses either side restrained me and a new mask was put over my face. I asked today if this had actually happened? The urology nurse told me she didn’t know. I’m stupid for asking. Why would they tell me even if it had?

I wonder how many people have had operations? I mean percentage wise. I mean 4 out of ten or 2 out of ten? I’ve had more than my percentage. I was once again in love with one of the nurses today. She is more beautiful than the butterfly. Every time I see her I fall in love with her. She has a face like a doll and today she had her long black hair swept up over her face twisted it into a bun. She used a pen to hold it in place. I watched her do it. It made me think of all the good women who’ve been in my life. It made me remember the eccentricities that each woman carries with her. Nobody took me to the hospital. I caught a cab there. They only let me go home afterwards because I was going to have a carer be with me the rest of the day and night. I felt grateful that someone was picking me up to come home with me. A strange woman walked up to me as I pushed my wheelchair towards the sliding doors of the hospital. She hunched her shoulders and introduced herself. She was a Bogan. She told me she had parked blocks away. I had to push my wheelchair groggily up footpaths to her car. She drove me home using her GPS. In my garage she pulled my chair out and handed me the wheels. I put the wheels on. She started to pass to me but then stopped and put the cushion on the chair the wrong way round. I smiled and turned the cushion around.

Inside at home I had to ask her to move so I could get out of my wheelchair and lie down on the long side of my L shaped couch. She didn’t like being asked to move. We switched positions. She stood up and walked down to the short arm of the couch and sat down. She withdrew. She pursed her lips, folded her arms and crossed her left leg over her right. She sat kicking her foot. I was trying to forget where I’d just been and just watch TV but I could feel her bad feelings. She was making me feel guilty for asking her to move so eventually I had to ask her a question about her life as I lay there. That was all she wanted. That was all she needed. It was my own fault. She was with me for just over five hours and all she did was talk about her life. She talked to me like I was Oprah. I had just gotten out of hospital and was feeling groggy numb and sore and she was bombarding me with the tales of her family. I felt dumb, I should’ve been rude and asked her nothing. She rattled off names and accusations and stories about people that I’d never met. I am too polite to not listen. I love women but women are mad. I had just come out of a general anaesthetic and she wouldn’t shut up about people I will never meet. I should have done what she had. I should have given her some of my bad feelings

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

clots of blood

Andrew Stuart Buchanan