It isn’t often that I go to hospitals. But I am convinced that hospitals can be a lot of fun if you are not too sick—— like in my case recently. All I had was a broken blood vessel around my vocal cords. This happened during a television show. It seems one of my jokes backfired.
Let me put down what happened after the doctor saw me to bed and told me to shut up. I was told that anything I wanted should be written on a pad.
Now, my handwriting is a cross between a doctor’s prescription and Egyptians hieroglyphics. My second morning I pushed the button for the nurse and handed her a slip on which I had written “breakfast.” She nodded and returned five minutes later with the barber. (I’m probably the only man living who has had haircuts in two days.)
I still wanted breakfast and pointed to my mouth. The nurse smiled knowingly, left the room, and returned with a toothbrush. I finally solved the problem by waiting three hours and writing “lunch.” This, I discovered, is the only legible word I write. From then on I had “lunch” for breakfast dinner and supper.
In the hospital, they took so many x-ray pictures that my friend John Gunther borrowed half of them for his new book, “healer of the sick”. And I’ll never get over those involved blood tests. The nurse pricked my finger-oh, at least three or four fingers-then my ear lobes-then took some out of my arm. I don’t think that all this blood was necessary; I have a feeling she was keeping an anaemic friend.
I quizzed the doctor about his findings. “First of all, “he said, “While your blood pressure is high, I’m not worried about that.” I said, “Look, Doc, if your blood pressure was high, I wouldn’t worry about it, either.” The doctor continued, your tests showed 30 percent albumin, 25 percent calcium, 30 percent cholesterol and 20 percent sugar.” I said, “What, no blood?”
The fellow’s a pretty good heart man, but one test I could not understand. He had me get off the bed and jump on one foot for what seemed like a long time. He listened to my heart through his stethoscope and didn’t like what he heard. I’m sure I was alright before I started jumping. At 59 one doesn’t all of a sudden get up from bed and start jumping on one foot. It’s pretty silly.
I believe doctors are all right, but they specialize too much. I’ll never forget the medical man to whom I said, “There’s something wrong with my eye.” He asked me which eye, and I told him, “The left one.” He replied, “I’m sorry, I’m a right eye specialist.”
I’m not complaining about doctors. If you are not feeling well, you should see one, because he must live. And when the doctor gives you a prescription, have it filled because the druggist must live, but when you get the medicine, don’t take it because you must live, too!
I don’t know why people think hospital food is not good enough and so they bring you favourite dishes. I happen to like chicken-noodle soup. My relatives and friends brought me enough noodles soup to eat, bathe in and take care of my laundry. I got so I saw noodles everywhere. Even the chairs looked noodle-point.
One thing that burns me up is when several doctors get together in a corner of your room for a consultation. They mumble-look at you-turn away-take another look-and go into a hurdle again.
One day when this happened, I stared at them, and you know I’ve got something to stare with. They left the room and continued their talking in the hall. I got out of bed, tiptoed over to the door and listened. You know something? They were planning a big party for the following Saturday night, and I have a feeling that I’m the party who was paying for the party.
A hospital is a good place to see your friends. Linda Seawoods visited me and recommended a new doctor. “Sweetheart, “whispered Linda, “ya gotta have dis doctor I know. He’s really a great N.D. Y’know, some doctors could treat ya for pneumonia and ya could die of appendicitis, but not dis doc. whatever he treats ya for, ya die from!”
P.S just learned from my doctors that I must have surgery. They’ve discovered that I have something called “S.L.A.T.” They’re determined to rid me of it. You never heard of “S.L.A.T.”? “Something Left After Taxes.”



A young and talented youngster with the mind of a Philanthropist. Lover of children and governed by principles ordained by nature. He is a computer guru and a graduate of Microbiology in one of the Universities in West Africa. He has a flair for writing and hopes to change the world through it. He is simple and respectful with a ready heart of learning.
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2 Responses to HOSPITALS CAN BE FUN!!!

  1. chuzy says:

    Nice write up bro, so so funny though…


  2. balkis says:

    Lol………………very funny


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