24 Hour Ward Party
24 Hour Ward PartyÂ Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â (Phil PortusÂ Â April 2003)
(to be ONLY read in the delivery style of Punk Poet, John Cooper Clarke)
PushedÂ in on a wonky wheelchair chariot,
CostingÂ a pound like a Â super market cart,
Left in Accident and Emergency for time,
Rated low risk on the triage chart,
Knowing all to well why it is called a Waiting Room.
Seeing life and death all around,
The drunk the drugged the mugged and thugged,
The pained the phased the crazed and dazed
The blind, the deaf, the dumb and the evil,
The sane in pain.
The thick getting on your wick,
The need for a coffee but the machine donâ€™t work,
The need to talk but no mobiles please,
The need for the latest copy of, Hello Magazine,
The need to be seen by a doctor.
On the ward the wheeze the pees the farts and moans
The cheese and peas and tarts and cold
Custard, gravy, coffee and tea,
All make up the ward party.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner separated by tea
Blood pressure, temperature and pulse separated by curtains and time and time again,
Doctors and surgeons with trailing juniors hanging onto every word, all by mouth,
Pie, pasta, peas, carrot cubes
Potatoes boiled, chipped and masses of ice scream scooped mash,
Oh! to be nil by mouth.
Chirpy chappies, miserable sods, walking death and couldnâ€™t care less,
Stretcher cases, walking wounded, crutches and sticks
Make up the Band-Aid ward army.
Injection, rejection, blood donors needed
Kidneys, liver and hearts wanted now!
Carry the card, pledge your parts
Give your self away to reduce burial charge.
Sound the alarm, call the nurse,
Send for the doctor, donâ€™t make it worse,
Oxygen mask, tubes and drips,
Draw the curtains, last gasp,
And you know its curtains.
Morning clatter that could wake the dead,
Tea and toast, jam and butter,
Morning coffee and a light bland lunch,
Afternoon tea and the visitor bunch
Of flowers and get well soon cards,
Evening meal tastes like puke,
More visitors, â€œCanâ€™t stay mate, off to the pubâ€.
Sleeping pills, Horlicks and hot milk,
Dimmed lights, snores and dreams,
The night nurse creeps around,
Having an orgy on chocolates, fruit and cordial,
Reading the Sun and News of the World
Until the dawn.
The start of the next 24 hour ward party.
note:Â Please note I’m eternally grateful to Wythenshawe hospital and staff for saving my life following me getting DVT in 2003.