Tommy Collison

Sitting on the end of John’s bed. He has, as the Irish say, taken a turn for the worse, and is staying here in hospital until Monday at the earliest. He’s back to extreme headaches and throwing up, only now, of having eaten anything today apart from a slice of toast, it’s dry retching.

He tries to sit up, but it seems too great an effort and he slumps back down again. I ask how he is and get a low grunt. Dad (not in an unkind manner) notes: “D’you have to ask?”

Despite my lengthy medical record, I haven’t been admitted in over 3 years. The memories weren’t exactly forgotten, but it’s as if the past few days have reawakened these recolections. The loss of identity due to hospital pyjames with a distinct second hand feel, the unfamiliar smells and the stuffy room with air quality you haven’t experiened since last summer’s flight to Barcelona. But of course this isn’t the fault of the hospital. It’s all the equipment. You get the same in the computer rooms in school.

An elderly nurse pops a cheery head round the door and enquires if John would like a cup of tea. John, having enough trouble holding down 2 tablets -one for nausea and one for a headaches- politely declines.

These past few days have really opened my eyes. I’ve truely discovered the most precious thing on Earth: good health. People are always bitching about one thing or another. Their favourite hairdresser was closed, the latest game they want for their xBox is 18′s and their parents refuse to buy it for them, Dunnes down the street being closed, and having to go to Aldi or Lidl for something instead. I’d always knew these were trivial, but looking at John, or hearing about anyone else, they seem downright stupid. Everytime I hear someone like this I have to restrain myself from punching them, while shouting “These aren’t problems!!”

It also brings to mind all the people you hear spending their final months in a hospital ward. It frightens me to think of myself in 70+ years time, lying on a bed in a private room, hooked up to about 50 different things. I’d pay good money to get the hell out. I’d rather die abroad then here. Home is good, but abroad is better.

So, these past few days have told me something. Health is a strange commodity. It is the most valued, but also the one that most people take for granted having…

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Apologies for that slightly morbid post. Normal, happy-go-lucky posts shall resume shortly