Hospital Drama

My mother's hip replacement operation was moved forward two days early and performed early yesterday. I paid her a visit yesterday afternoon.

Many years ago I worked on a photographic exhibition project about black women of excellence in the local area. One woman who agreed to take part was a newscaster for the BBC. She invited us to see her in action at Elstree Studios, where I was able to interview her. As a huge fan of the media, I was very excited to be in this environment. I was also very keen to see how the news was actually produced. Later, I studied media and cultural studies at university.

To me, the hospital is exactly like a television or film studio. Both are full of actors performing many different roles. The only difference between the two is that the actors in a film studio know they are acting while the actors in hospitals believe the scenes are real.

The hospital where my mother had her operation is quite a large film set. As she hadn't been allocated an actual ward (studio) I asked the actress playing the role of the receptionist where to go. I followed her directions but found myself in the maternity set. Fortunately, there was another actor/porter who was going in the general direction and pointed the way.

Before I entered the hospital set, I had to ensure I was kitted up. Part of the film script reads that there are super bugs around so visitors have to use disinfectant outside the door. I was playing the role of a patient. I asked the nurse where my mother was. Mum was half-asleep. The machines that my mother was attached to were really good, almost convincing. She even had a kind of contraption that she presses which enables her to administer herself more pain killer. Apparently you can't overdose on drugs because the machine won't let you. I kissed her cheek and whispered "Stop acting like you're sick, I know you're not." She smiled behind the oxygen mask.

My brother and my mother's friend were already beside her bed. Before she retired, my mother's friend worked as an anaesthetist, so she was used to the hospital drama. My brother asked me what the instruments were for. I said I didn't have a clue. Besides, I'm no special effects expert.

Mum shared the ward with three other patients The patient opposite was an elderly-looking gentleman who said he'd had his knee replaced. He seemed very frail. My brother and I chatted to him. It seemed like we were speaking different languages. When my brother asked him something, he responded with something different. Either it was because my brother wasn't familiar with his script or the man was improvising. When he got up to go to the toilet he asked me to move his Zimmer frame closer. I asked him if he wanted help to get up but he said he was doing fine; his script demands that he practises walking by himself.

As there were not many chairs available I asked the elderly man if we could borrow his stool so my brother could sit on it.

On the next bed, an elderly woman had two women visitors. One woman said that soon supermarkets are going to offer people hip and knee replacements - buy one hip, get one free. The thought of supermarkets selling hip and knee replacements had us in stitches.

In every drama there has to be a villain; in this drama it was the physiotherapist. He was here to get the elderly man to exercise his knee. His first mean task was to take away the stool from my brother, which he said he needed for his patient to stretch out his knee. Boo! We watched as he got his patient to do the required exercises. After that he came and stood beside my mother's bed. He asked me what her mobility was like before the operation and I told him. He said that when patients are in hospital they tend to feel sick. The idea is to try and get patients back in their home environment as soon as possible. He said he was going to get her out of bed tomorrow.

"Why wait till tomorrow," I goaded, "when you can get her out of bed now?"
"I'm cruel, but not that cruel," he chuckled.

He asked mum if she was using the pain killers. She nodded.

"Well, don't overdo it," he said. "It's not meant for fun, you know."
"Yeah right," I laughed, "I can just see mum getting high on drugs."

Hmmm, this physiotherapist is no ordinary villain; he has a wicked sense of humour. I reckon this must be an independent hospital drama where the normal rules of villainy don't apply.

My mother's role wasn't exactly challenging. All she had to do was act drowsy and fall asleep. She was even snoring.

"Do you think she's dribbling in her oxygen mask?" I asked my brother.
"Nah, people don't tend to dribble upward but around the corner of their mouth," he said.

My mother had given a few friends the number to call to enquire about her but the number wasn't the right one. I woke mum up to ask what her friends surnames were so I could look up their numbers in her diary and call them. Mum was able to give me their telephone numbers from memory. She can't be that out of it if she can remember telephone numbers.

Soon it was time to let mum act out her role of sleeping. We promised to visit the next day.

I have to say that was a good hospital drama with some great performances. Can't wait to watch the next episode.

No matter what the drama, love is all there is.

Enocia

Related articles: Masks; Masks - Part 2; Ideas in Mind; The Studio; Support; Light is All and in All; Canned Laughter; What Seems to be the Problem?; No Drama; Extras; Virtual Reality Cannot Harm You!; Not All Suffering Is