Whisperings of the Soul. Een weblog over de hobbelige, onvoorspelbare weg naar ouderdom.

Down to the bottom again
(A message from Black Birdie)

My poet (my boss) can’t write at the moment, he is exhausted … good heavens what a story, what an incident. Last Saturday-evening after several visits of three general practitioners earlier that day, he was brought by ambulance to the hospital.

It is unbelievable, but it seems if he, laying on the stretcher, got a fourth or fifty buckets of water pour out over his body. Infernal flashes of lightning, thunderclaps and a pelting rain formed a tragicomic scène.

I don’t know, but I think my poet was thinking on that particular moment on the Stortemelk”, the ship between Harlingen and Vlieland; once he told me about his adventure a long time ago with that ship in the middle of a storm, because there where also 25 cows on their way to Vlieland. Imagine what happened.
Of course that’s not the point now … and it’s nonsense, his body was ‘a house of pain’, he was afraid and one and all misery.

Anyway, he went to the hospital trough this horrible weather to get released for his “pissing problems”. He is back home now and has for the time being a “suprapubisch”-catheter, waiting for an operation later on (this whole problem has been caused by Amitriptyline.) Tomorrow he must visit the hospital again. My poor poet, - but he looks strong and rather calm.

[© MN, ‘Down and out’. Photo “Thunderstorm” by Willy Marthinussen.]