The reawakening

The first morning sans nose throat stomach pipe the doctor and his entourage looked on with less of a confident gaze than usual. Numbers were mentioned and questions requested.

In my yoof I was pretty good at the smart Alec one liners and caustic put downs. In fact I was very good but this did not make me popular with management or colleagues as my interjections invariably extended the meetings. It wasn't smart and it wasn't clever but the day came when the smart retort was there but the moment had passed. Some thought it long overdue sign of maturity but really it was just decay.

So it was most days with the doctor and the opportunity for questions. I thought of them about 90 seconds after they'd gone. Fortunately one of his youthful entourage was a pretty petite doctor with a ready smile and understanding eyes. She would usually casually return later ostensibly to browse the ring folder of notes at the foot of thd bed but i think she was just saving me the embarrasment and providing opportunity for queries to be explained.

She it was who explained about the new me. I told her that my mum said I could eat a horse and chase the driver. Rider, she offered. Driver I assured her. Growing up the only horse we ever seen was strapped into Ben Phillips' cart with Ben Phillips holding the reins as he lurched off the sand, up the slip and proceeded to fill in the gaps between the cobbles with ray slime. It made the wharf a very slippery place. I used to think it was why the rays were called skate. I was wrong about that, too.

Anyway, I explained that the only time I felt proper full was Christmas or Chinese take away nights. She informed me that I'd get used to feeling full because the lower part of my stomach, the stretchy springy bit capable of mighty expansion was by now, ashes. The top part would stretch, a bit, given enough time but seeing as it was all I had left I'd better get used to it.

She also expounded the doctors comment about wind. He said it was important that if breaking wind I should do so with maximum gusto. Gosh, after a lifetime of exercising a degree of genteel decorum I was now expected to let rip. How ever would I manage? It was to shake the digestive tract into wakefulness. Alas, a lifetime habit was hard to break but I managed, albeit with what had to be considered pathetic results.

Today she explained that with no ng tube we had to ensure that the tract from mouth to t'other end was complete and functional otherwise it would be back to tubes and china clay in a bag. To this end a x-ray had been scheduled for this afternoon and I was nil by mouth from now.

She was lovely but a warning would not have been inappropriate. When wheeled into x-ray room 16 some six hours later it was somewhat different to the x-ray rooms previously encountered. It was dominated by a table that i was invited to lie on and relax. The former was a chilling experience the latter impossible.

Once on it a lady hiding behind a serious screen offered a glass tumbler with 20mm or so of clear liquid for me to take. I was asked to drink it, hold it in my mouth and swallow when asked. This I did. The man in charge told me it wasn't that bad and people were known to exaggerate its unpleasantness but It wasn't as bad is they make out he assured me. It was viscous and would take a determined swallow he said.  It was the most vile stuff imaginable.

No sooner had I done as asked my head was tilted with the rest of me dramatically downwards. More foul liquid.

Next I was tilted head up, feet down for the next dose of nastiness. This was more of a struggle than I'd expected as I was tilted back again as I swallowed. Unfortunately, as I was tilted back I caught a glimpse of a glass beaker full of fullness. I quaked and urged at the thought of what was coming next.

Sure enough, once back to level he explained that for the encore I would have to swallow as smoothly as I could as I was rotated longitudinally ending up sideways. I valiantly did as I was told.

Once flat on my back and feeling a tad unsettled he allowed me to sit up and watch the movie. He showed me my digestive track being polluted with silvery shiny stuff but it flowed smoothly from mouth to you can guess where. This led to the obvious question. He suggested any time soon. I also told him what I thought of his views of the foul concoction. I know, he said, its utterly awful, isn't it?

The important thing was that x-ray the movie had established that the plumbing was neither leaky or blocked.

Back on the ward the young lady doctor "happened" along and sips was wiped off my ID plate. I had a plastic disposable beaker of tomato cuppa soup placed in front of me.

Less than half of it's content left me feeling strangely full up and once the disappointment of having to leave most of it had been overcome I was overwhelmed by a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time.

The vile viscous liquid was on the move and so was I.