Page 10 - January 2021 BSTTW Community News

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died. She gave me a small book of
"thoughts". I would have to wait until I could
lift my dictionary before reading the poems.
The Third Operation
This was the day of my third operation. I
was now familiar with the routine, they
wake you up, take away your drinking
straw, try to make you sleep with drugs,
then wake you up again by moving you
about on a trolley and on top of that you
have a math test counting in German. The
last operation was to remove the pins and
free my legs from the frame. I awoke in a
different room. I was no longer in intensive
care, my legs were not supported but my
knees were fixed at forty-five degrees, no
doubt as a result of the month's lack of
movement. I was no longer surrounded by
bottles and monitoring machinery.
Things started to improve, I developed an
appetite. I started on soups, but I was a
vegetarian and soon became picky. On
Sunday evenings the kitchen closed and we
would be given rather unappetizing
sandwiches, some with meat. Apparently,
the hospital had a flourishing rabbit
population in it's grounds. I found out why
on Sunday. As soon as the nurse had gone,
all our sandwiches were thrown to the
eagerly waiting rabbits. What they didn't,
eat was eaten by birds. "Who wants
chips ?" shouted one of the patients. I was
amazed, chips in hospital! The kitchen did
not have chips on the menu. Everyone
wanted chips, including me. One of the
more mobile patients put on a dressing
gown and slippers, collected some change
and sneaked out of the room. "Where's he
going", I said. I learned that just outside the
hospital in the high street was a chip shop.
It was a daring venture, nurses can be
vengeful in sneaky ways. We all enjoyed
chips that night. When the nurse came to
BSTTW COMMUNITY NEWS
collect the empty sandwich plates the room
still smelt like a fish and chip shop and we
were given funny looks and a waving finger.
Both rabbits and patients slept a little more
contently that night.
When Dr Brandt came to see me I did not
recognize him; he was not wearing
sterilized clothing. I explained that he
should cover his mouth and forehead with
his hands, then I could recognize him. He
did this, rather amused, and I said "Yes, it's
you doctor". I was told that I should make
an effort to get out of bed and start using
my legs. No more operations would be
necessary but I must start to walk again.
I was allowed to have a radio and this gave
me contact with the English language. I was
also given a sack full of mail sent from all
over the world. The Dutch shortwave
station had broadcast massages to me
which I had not heard, and listeners had
taken it upon themselves to write. Now, out
of intensive care I was given this mail. Over
five hundred cards and letters arrived,
people even sent money.
As my burns healed, I was getting back
more movement in my arms and hands.
The dead skin started to peel, rather like
after sunburn. I was peeling and itching all
over. My first attempts at walking were not
a success. I could not straighten my legs
and I fell onto supporting nurses arms. I
was still suffering physiotherapy torture,
now lifting and lowering my legs in bed and
trying to straighten and bend my knees.
When hospital food was served we were
never given the full complement of cutlery.
One had to eat everything using only a fork
or spoon. I always had to ask for a knife;
this particular day the nurse told me to get
the knife myself. "Right", I said. "That's it.
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