When I was a boy, there was a huge chestnut tree right
next door. Every Autumn the chestnuts would fall to the ground
like little green hand grenades and all the boys on the block
would rush to find the biggest ones they could. The prize inside
the shell was destined to be turned into weapons of mass
destruction. Or at least that’s the way as 9 year old boys we
looked at it.
After peeling off the prickly outer shell, we were rewarded with
a jewel like shiny brown chestnut inside and so the race began
to build our arsenals of death and destruction.
The first thing we did was to secure a two foot long piece of
butcher’s string from Mom’s cupboard. That was the best type
of string for its strength and durability as we made our Conkers,
also known as Doney Wackers.
We would then borrow Dad’s electric drill without his permissionof course. As we tried to avoid boring a hole through our
finger, we then proceeded to feed the string through the
chestnut, and finish it off with a large knot at the end to keep
the nut from flying off during battle.
The purpose of a Conker is two fold. First, two combatants
would stand face to face at a reasonably safe distance apart
to prevent certain death by flying chestnut.
As we faced each other, we whirled our Conkers around to
generate enough speed to smash the opponent’s chestnut
to bits on impact with your own Conker.
There was an element of danger to both contestants if
your chestnut missed your opponent’s. When that happened,
it wasn’t all that uncommon for your chestnut to smash into
your opponent's jewels or if things really went sideways,
your own!
Admittedly it was a silly boy’s game, but it provided healthy
competition between us guys, and the winner could claim
bragging rights as the world Conkers champion of
Greenwood Avenue. That was until someone else came
along with a bigger, stronger Conker to claim the official title,
leaving the previous champion with a crushed chestnut, broken
ego and a sudden end to his reign of glory.
There was also a second, albeit slightly less dangerous
competition. The object of the game was to twirl your Conker
around and around and around to generate enough speed as
possible to propel your chestnut as high up into the sky as you
could. The trick was to make sure you released the string at
the optimum time, so that it took off like straight like a rocket,
up into the air rather than smashing into your face with the
velocity of a speeding bullet.
The person who could hurl their Conker the highest was
deemed the winner. This honor wasn’t quite as important
as smashing your opponent’s chestnut to bits, but the winner
had the right to claim the loser's chestnut as the spoils of war.
There were many fine Conkers that went astray and ended
up on the roofs and in eavestroughs around the neighbourhood
each year.
So that is a little blast from the past of my younger days. For
the rest of this story we are going to rocket forward sixty years….
Many of you are unfortunately familiar with what a catheter is
and used for. For those who have never had the pleasure,
let me give you a brief and polite description.
A catheter is used to drain urine from the body when it cannot
expelled normally or naturally. Sometimes a person is fitted
with a catheter as a temporary measure after undergoing an
operation or procedure, until the patient is capable of draining
urine naturally.
One such situation arose after a procedure which I do not
need to elaborate on, when I was released from the Emergency
Room at the hospital after a 12 hour, shall we say, “experience”.
As you might imagine, 12 hours in an emergency ward is
soul sucking and exhausting. Unfortunately after the doctors
were finished with me, they sent me home equipped
with a catheter which consisted of a 4 foot long plastic tube
that entered my body where urine naturally exits and is pushed
up into my bladder.
At the opposite end of the tube is a large 12 by 12 inch
collection bag which stores the draining urine. This bag is
large enough to almost hold two full 7-11 Big Gulps, or about
2000 ml or about 67 ounces. That’s a whole lot of Pepsi or pee!
After being discharged from the ER ward, while waiting to
leave the hospital my bag was getting quite full and quite
heavy.
The collection bag is colored bright white and not very discreet
as I held it in my hand with 4 feet of plastic tubing slung
around my arm to avoid tripping on it. As you might imagine,
tripping on a hose connected to my bladder would be VERY,
VERY BAD! So as I waited to leave the hospital, it looked like
I was carrying a large white handbag with clear plastic tubing
as a strap. Very fashionable indeed.
My wife had dropped me off at the hospital the previous
evening and we agreed she should not wait around for me
because I knew from previous experience, I was going to be
in there for a while.
I will admit that after 12 hours in the emergency ward, I was
completely exhausted having been awake for close to 24
hours at that point. As soon as I was ok to go home, I called
her to come and pick me up.
As I sat in the waiting area seated only a few feet away from
the admissions office, a very strange fellow walked into the
hospital and immediately made his presence known to
everyone within earshot.
His mode of dress was a sight to be seen! If you will, try to
imagine a tall, thin dark haired man, unshaven, and wearing
what I can only describe as an Edith Bunker style winter coat.
For those that remember the Archie Bunker show, Edith often
wore a ¾ length black cloth coat, with reddish brown fake fur
around the collar and the end of the sleeves. On his head,
he wore black Fedora style hat. On top of the Fedora, he had
placed what I call a Minnie Pearl style straw hat, which was
adorned with colorful flowers around the wide brim.
He also wore white gloves, black construction boots and black
pants that were at least 3 sizes too big as the legs dragged
along the floor. To complete his eclectic ensemble, he carried
a very small beaded white purse around his right arm, secured
with a long silver chain.
I wasn’t sure if he had just robbed one of those big charity bins
that people deposit old clothes in, or was on his way to a
Gothic style country hoedown.
As he approached the Admissions desk, he shouted to the
young lady and anyone within 100 yards to get up and make
him a sandwich, NOW! Clearly the young lady at the desk
had a lot of experience with this person in the past and
told him there was a cafe just down the street where he could
buy a sandwich if he wanted.
Raising his voice even louder, he demanded she make his
sandwich right away because he had not eaten in three days,
after which he immediately pulled a new package of cigarettes
out of Edith’s coat side pocket and tried to light one up right
there in the reception area. That was enough for the
admissions lady as far as she was concerned, so she picked
up the phone and called security.
This only annoyed our mysterious friend where he then
announced he was at the hospital to meet a police officer
who was supposed to give him $50,000. Oh boy, this was
really getting wild now!
Fortunately two very young security guards who looked like
they just got out of high school, with a combined weight of
160 pounds including pimples, arrived and escorted our
fashionable friend out the front door, thank goodness!
However a more serious issue was brewing for me. As
security was escorting him out the front door I noticed him
eyeing me and my large white catheter bag.
Instead of our two security guards walking the him out to the
street, they left him right outside the glass doors as he
began pacing back and forth like a starving lion, all the while
glaring at me.
To make matters worse, I can see my wife’s car entering the
parking lot and I know I will have to walk directly past the
him to get to our car once she parks!
It then occurred to me that this guy might be thinking that my
catheter bag looks like a mighty fine purse, in fact a much
bigger and a better model than the little one he had strung
over his arm. What am I going to do if he decides that my
purse should become his purse? His purse is simply hanging
on his wrist. Mine is secured to my wee willie at the end of 4
feet of plastic hose!
At my age and condition I am in no way able to defend myself
in a game of psychotic “Tug of War” in any way if he decides
it's time for a free purse upgrade and grabs my bag and
yanks on it.
I’ve now got visions of me being turned into a human Conker
as he whirls and twirls me around until I fly off the end of four
feet of plastic tubing relinquishing my purse!
Fortunately security had regrouped moments later and
returned with reinforcements and walked our fashionista
friend well away from the hospital doors and out of my path,
and over to the other side of the street.
I wasted no time high-tailing it as quick as I could manage and
climbed into the car with my purse and matching hose strap
firmly and safely secured to my wee willie for the drive home!
Like a scene out of a B-grade heist movie where the robbers
run out of the bank, I said to my wife, DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE!!!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This story is 100% true, except for the
parts that I just made up
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
**********************************************
Copyright 2024 Kenneth Lane Smith
All Rights Reserved
**********************************************
No comments:
Post a Comment