Funny story from med post

[Guest windymountain2003]

www.medicalpost.com/life/...85247_4280

 

One woman’s determination to tend to her tomato garden following bowel surgery sows nothing but trouble for her attending physician

 

With age, people seem more willing to give out facts about their bodies; when you ask them, “How are you?” you may get more than you bargained for.

 

Last year, I was walking downtown in Kamloops, B.C., in the heat of summer when a grey-haired, buxom woman stopped me. She hugged me then kissed me on both cheeks. Her husband, a small man, remained 10 paces behind her, standing in the shade.

 

“You remember me, Mister Doctor? I’m Mary and that’s Joe. You delivered all our five kids.”

 

“Oh, yes, now I remember. Just how are you doing, Mary?”

 

“It’s a long story, Mister Doctor. Am I glad to see you; I really missed you since you retired.”

 

“Thank you, Mary. You haven’t been doing well?”

 

“When I was in hospital with my operations, Mister Doctor, I almost died. See, three scars on my belly.”

 

She lifted her blouse and I could see three new scars, one paramedian and two vertical on the left side of her abdomen.

 

“Those are large scars, Mary.”

 

“I really missed you in the hospital. Your friend, the surgeon, I think he was your partner, cut me here, cut me there —three times he cut me.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Mary. What happened?”

 

“Mister Doctor, I almost died. Even the priest thought I was a gonner. He gave me my last rites. All the kids was crying in my four-bed hospital ward. It was way past visiting hours, too. Even Joe came to see me.”

 

“Sounds bad, Mary.”

 

“I got a tangled bowel, Mister Doctor. It wasn’t no cancer neither, ‘Just a simple bowel obstruction,’ the doctor said. Can you believe it?”

 

“You saw the surgeon.”

 

“Yes, Doc, your doctor friend cut some bad bowel out of me. Some even had got rotten and I got a bad fever. He hooked my bowel back onto my skin—‘a colostomy,’ he said. I stayed in hospital till I started passing gas onto my skin. It felt funny, Doc, farting into a big bag. Then your friend he sent me home after he took most of my stitches out.”

 

“He discharged you?”

 

“That’s right, Mister Doctor. You know Joe, he has a bad back and he didn’t plant my tomato plants like I told him. When I got home they were all wilty-like. I had to do something, Doc.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I done a bad thing, Mister Doctor. I dug the garden with my spade and planted all my tomato plants that evening.”

 

“You did what?”

 

“I almost finished planting and was pounding in my tomato stakes in the ground and everything in my belly came apart. I fell down on the plants and lay on the ground. The surgeon got real mad when I came back to the hospital. He said I had ‘dehissed.’ Would you believe it? My guts spilled out of me.”

 

“Did you have to go back for surgery, Mary?”

 

“Yeah, they washed my belly out good. My belly was full of chicken manure and tomato plants from the garden, from when I fell. Then your friend got real angry when he had to hook me up again. When I woke up in the recovery room, I heard him muttering to himself: ‘Chicken @#%$, but chicken @#%$ and leaves?’ I think he was really mad with me, Mister Doctor.”

 

“I guess you were really sick?”

 

“You said it, Doc. I had intensive care for three days and antibiotics by the tonne. I almost died. My kids was crying but they never called the priest this time.”

 

“How long did you stay?”

 

“I was in hospital two weeks with those big nylon stitches. They held strong—they was thick as my nylon salmon fishing line. Your friend, the surgeon, he left them in for three weeks. When he discharged me the nurses came twice a day, Mister Doctor. I almost died—those operations were tough.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

“About six months later, the surgeon, your friend Doc Gordie, and another nice guy hooked the two ends of my gut together. I been fine ever since.”

 

“I’m glad you’re OK now. Sorry to hear about your problems. I’m meeting your surgeon, Dr. Gordie, and we are having lunch together. I have to go.”

 

“See you around, Doc. Sure do miss you. Tell your surgeon friend I’ll bring him some big juicy beefsteak tomatoes next week. They’re almost ripe.”

 

Sterling Haynes is a retired physician in Westbank, B.C.