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Year View| Summary| Highlights| Month View| Monday 13 May 2002 (Day View) – X-Ray
13.05.2002 – Monday 13 May – X-Ray
- • He procured himself a ride within a friend’s automobile, upon entering of which he began to find himself transported in a manner most alarming towards his destination, the hospital being a destination with much merit when embarking upon such a journey. He arrived, unscathed save psychologically, but with time up his sleeve. And, so rumour would have us believe, an armpit. To do his time justice, he called on the services of a friend of the family, who happened to reside in the near vicinity. (This being after the postal office (and its menagerie of postal boxes) had divulged its single letter into his willing hands). A delightful hour of repose, relaxation and idle chatter followed, broken only by the automobile we met previously coming to rest against a tree – not in the manner desired. Fortunately for the tree, the speeds involved were not only minimal, but also angular. Fortunately for the automobile, the tree was rounded and its girth offset with respect to the automobile’s gravitational centre.
Our valiant hero, cavalier paragon that he is, set his life back into the dubious hands of fate, entering once again into the battle-scarred automobile, which made its way, poste-haste, hospitalwise.
Not content with the vagaries of speed, velocity and mass (not to mention large immoveable objects), our hero threw care to the laundromat and placed his life into the arms of the Medical Profession. The people who kill people, whilst attempting to save the very life they lose. After the required stabbing, pressing, poking and observing, he made his way to the microwave, and lost several minutes of his life. The minutes embedded themselves firmly into a thin sheet of plastic, which he then took to the medical profession who was sitting in her small room, second on the right. In this case she was a petite Egyptian, who placed the trapped minutes onto an enlightening box, and peered intently at them; without doubt becoming very enlightened.
Our hero, having finally reached his destination after many trials and tribulations, and a single chocolate milk, had still yet one final indignity to suffer. He was made to lie upon a table, and allow the medical profession to examine him, presumably to ensure he was indeed the right hero and not some Hollywood replica. Checksums checked, CRC’s CRC’d, airways breathed, thoracic cavities rang true, and the supermarket was broached, plundered and pilfered. Leaving our hero back in the automobile returning whence he came, respite with the knowledge that his pneumothorax was all but cleared (and 4 packets of cream biscuits, a large block of chocolate and a large packet of Thins potato crisps).
Despite what you think, he did not require any mind-altering drugs during his stay in hospital.