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Wednesday, May 29, 2013

87 Please don't sing 'Misty' for me

After I posted the piece about my horrible night in Milton Keynes hospital and the intolerable, deranged behaviour of my ‘roommate’ John, Caroline reminded me of the last time I was in a room with another patient.  That was in a rehab centre in Fort Lauderdale, Florida in January 2009 after my transplant and things couldn’t have been more different.

Because so much happened during the 20 hours I was in hospital in Milton Keynes, I had to leave some aspects/incidents out.  I didn’t mention that the first sign that John showed of being difficult was when he started singing.  

John sat in his bed and “la-la’d” through Danny Boy.  I think that he once must have had a very nice singing voice.  He was pitch-perfect and when he reached the part where it goes really high, he hit every note effortlessly.  I was quite impressed.  Obviously, I was unaware at that point of how things were to turn out later.  I was almost finding it enjoyable.

After he had finished with Danny Boy, John started to ‘sing’ When a Child is Born, the Johnny Mathis classic.  Again, no words - just la-la’s.

Later, when John was swearing and spitting at anyone who came near him, a nurse tried to quieten him by trying to get him to sing When a Child is Born with her.

She started to sing, “A ray of hope flickers in the sky,”

“FUCK OFF!” bellowed John and from then on things just went from bad to worse to even worserer.

Before and after my transplant, I was in the hospital and then in rehabilitation centres in Fort Lauderdale for 101 nights.  The hospitals I was in were nothing like ours.  

There were no wards.  Every patient either had a room to himself or herself or was in a twin-bed room.  For 100 of those nights, I had a room to myself.  For the last two weeks, I was in a room with space for two beds but I was alone.

January 16th 2009 was the big day.  I was due to leave Fort Lauderdale and return to Grand Cayman for the first time since I had left for my operation in early October of the year before.  At around 8:00 pm on the 15th, just after I had finished the last hospital dinner I was to have in America, a nurse came in.

“We’re going to have to bring someone in to share this room with you.  Sorry.”

I didn’t mind.  The worst thing that could happen was that my roommate might snore but that wasn’t really a problem because it was only going to be for one night.

At 10:00 the door opened and two nurses pushed in a bed bearing the inert figure of a black man.  I could see that he was older than me and that he was lying on his back, either asleep or unconscious.  I could only see him for about 30 seconds before the nurse pulled at a curtain and divided the room in two.  I could no longer see my companion.  

At 11 o’clock I tried to sleep.  Thank goodness he wasn’t snoring.  However, I hardly slept.  Half an hour later a nurse came back and was evidently trying to rouse my roommate.

“Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny”

She was unsuccessful and left.  I slept.  Then, a little later I was woken again.

“Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny……..…Johnny”

He couldn’t be asleep.  He must have been unconscious.  Ten minutes after that, another nurse came in.  I couldn’t see anything but I could hear that this nurse had a new tactic:

“Mister Mathis……. Mister Mathis…….Mister Mathis……. Mister Mathis”

It can’t be!  Can it?  I phoned Caroline who was in Cayman, fast asleep, having an early night.  She was catching the 7:00 am flight to Miami the next morning to help me get back home. 

I whispered urgently into the phone, “Look up Johnny Mathis.  Is he still alive?  How old is he?”

“Why?”

“Just look him up and text me.  I’ll tell you why tomorrow.”

The text came:

Yes  74   cu tomo

X           

Just after midnight, a nurse came to take my blood pressure, temperature and other things

“Is that Johnny Mathis?” I whispered.  She nodded.

Caroline arrived at 10:00 am the next morning.  “What was all that about?” she grumbled.  “I was asleep.  I had to get up at five.”

I told her who I was sharing a room with.  The curtain was still drawn across and so we couldn’t see him.  Caroline decided that she needed the bathroom and very slowly she walked past the other bed to the door.

“Yes, it could be,” she said when she got back.  “He’s slumped in a chair and he’s got his own private nurse with him.”

Half an hour later, we left for the airport.  I didn’t say goodbye to Johnny or thank him for his company.  For the 12 hours, he was with me, unlike John in Milton Keynes, I don’t think my roommate ever opened his eyes.   

He didn't sing either and that was a shame.     

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