My Dad recently had a hip replacement operation.  Sadly, it didn’t go well and he’s still struggling with his recovery – including a worsening of some long-standing ailments for which he’s already on a cocktail of drugs.  Clearly, however, the NHS hasn’t managed to break his spirit, as this poem that he penned during his convalescence shows.  Nice one, Dad….


(*Queen Alexandra Hospital, Portsmouth, UK)

As I lie here in my hospital bed,
These are the thoughts going round in my head.

Two super young ladies abducted me here,
When I told the GP I was feeling a bit queer.
My chest pain has gone now, I heard me say,
But the blue lights went on and we were away.

My heart’s reliable rhythm has just gone AWOL.
So now it’s being augmented by Bisoprolol.
My alphas are blocked and now betas too,
And my angiotensin2 receptors antagonised too.

That’s the third ECG but the trace is still crazy
And my blood pressure too is just being lazy.
But it tells them it’s just the rhythm I lack,
At least it’s not a heart attack.

I was lying here, quiet, doing no harm,
When they stuck a ruddy great pipe in my arm!
They needed my blood to check electrolyte,
Now, I’m just lying here, lost all my fight.

My bed’s close to the loo, though I have got a bottle.
Good job too for my bladder’s full throttle.
“Your pee’s a bit cloudy, are you feeling sick?”
So now they’ve added an anti-biotic.

The staff on this ward are all pretty magic
As they hustle and bustle around patients so tragic.
Old Will over there, ninety five but still frisky
With the tea lady. “Two sugars please love and a nice drop of whisky.”

My poor old head is in a spin,
They’re starting me on Warfarin!
Ten years ago I had all that.
I wouldn’t give it to a rat!

After several more weeks of clotting dispersion
They are going to do a cardioversion.
Just getting to sleep and they come to say,
We’re taking you along for a chest X- ray.

Seven weeks ago they replaced my hip
But it’s not right yet so I still can’t skip.
Upon my sleep, pain still takes it’s toll
But I can knock it down with Co-Dydramol.

It seems like I’ll never escape their clutches
As I hobble about on my trusty crutches.
But being here has made me see
So many patients far more poorly than me.

So, with our NHS to help me battle,
You’ll recognise me by my constant RATTLE!


  1. motty says:

    I was quite taken
    With the words he was making.
    What a fantastic poem and letter.
    I do hope that he’s feeling ever so much better.

  2. Fiona Clarke says:

    Euan applying for GAP year jobs and QA one of his options………tell your Dad to get better quickly else he may start getting mayo on his roast dinners from a helpful health care assistant!
    Hope all going well with you all. Xx

    • Al says:

      Ben still won’t eat carrots on a roast without mayo and I blame your first born entirely! I know it’s a cliche but blimey can Euan really be old enough to be taking a gap year – that was how old I was when I first met his lovely mum. If we’d only known then what we know now! All good here, just digging out the electric blankets ready for a Sydney winter. Hope all good at Casa Clarkie. When are you coming to visit? xxx

  3. Al says:

    You may have (temporarily) lost your rhythm but at least you haven’t lost your sense of humour! They say laughter is the best medicine so you should be well on your way to recovery now or does it only hurt when you laugh?!!!! Get well soon Grandad xxxx

  4. Chloe Wilmot says:

    I really hope you are on the mend and feeling 100% soon, your poem was brilliant and I hope that the busy ward appreciate it too. Take Care. Much love to your folks and to all the Ozzi A-Z clan too, Ian, Chloe, Sam & Caitlin x

Speak Your Mind