Wednesday 23 June 2010

Insult to injury

Tom spent last weekend in Nottingham getting drunk with his Uni mates, so on Monday we all went out for an impromptu lunch. We arrived at the pub which was full of elderly folk enjoying a quiet meal, and asked Betty what she would like to eat. She replied 'butter'. I told her that she couldn't just have butter and would she like some soup and bread with it. She reluctantly said she would. We sat down at the table and waited for our food to arrive. Dolly happily sat chewing on her two Happyland plastic dogs which she is inseparable from.

Chaos soon ensued. Betty climbed onto the table and knocked over a pint of water. Mops, buckets, and towels came out and a big clear-up operation took place. She was being loud and whingey and clumsy. Our food arrived and Betty refused to eat anything other than butter. Her cutlery clattered to the floor, another drink almost went over, and she tried to run away from the table with her butter.

As I became increasingly aware that the elderly couple at the next table were now not having such a quiet lunch and I began feeling on edge, Betty turned to said couple, and looked them up and down. I was thinking OMG what is about to come out of her mouth. 'I don't like that man or that lady' is what came out of her mouth. Having already completely disrupted their lunch this was seriously adding insult to injury. Through clenched teeth I quietly told her not to be so rude. So she said the same thing even louder. I told her that if she said it again she would not get anything from the treat box later on. So instead of 'saying' it, she began singing it, over and over again 'I don't like that man or that lady' in a sweet little angelic voice.

Tom whisked Betty outside and the elderly couple got up to leave. The lady then began heading towards me and I was terrified and embarrassed and just wanted to disappear. But in a gentle and kind voice she said 'She is at that difficult age dear, it will soon pass, don't despair.'

Saturday 19 June 2010

Dear Melissa

When you found me sleep-walking along the corridor of the maternity ward last Tuesday, you put your arm around me, and asked if i was from the antenatal or postnatal ward. I was a little taken aback. Actually I cried.

I appreciate that my stomach protrudes far more than it did pre children and my muscle tone is now virtually non-existent, but do I really look nine months pregnant? I appreciate that you are a student midwife, but even so, nine months?

Anyway, since that little chat we had in the side-room where you helpfully sat me down, gave me a glass of water and asked where my green notes were, and I tried in vain to convince you that I was there looking after a labouring friend, I have been living on a diet of nuts and grapes and my Twirl intake is at an all time low.

If I ever get back down to a svelte size 10 I will know who to thank.

Best of luck with the rest of your midwifery training.

Kind regards

E Button

Wednesday 16 June 2010

Dear Colin

When I saw you in the corridor of the maternity ward in the early hours of last tuesday, I perhaps came across as a bit of a nutter. I hadn't slept for three days and was a little off kilter. I was acting as a birthing partner to my best friend who was going through a particularly lengthy labour, when you innocently popped your head round the door to ask the midwife on duty if there was a spare birthing ball for the labouring lady in the next room. You didn't expect a delirious woman to collapse at your feet declaring you to be their soulmate. You looked a bit scared, and soon hurried away (minus the birthing ball).

Let me explain. Until that point (last tuesday) you had been a vision, a saviour, a hero, and perhaps not quite real. I'd spent the last year telling anyone who would listen, that I would have married you on the spot, if it weren't for the fact that you were gay, and I was already married and giving birth to my husband's child.

For, on arrival at the hospital all those months ago, with my baby Dolly hurtling out, you heard my pleading screams from the main reception 'SOMEBODY GET ME THE GAS AND AIR NOOOOOOWWW'. And that somebody was you. I needed that gas and air like nothing else on earth, and you delivered, at a remarkable speed.

So for that I thank you, and hope that this goes some way to explaining my perhaps slightly odd behaviour last week when I staggered out of the delivery suite (full of my labouring friend's gas and air).

Kind regards

E Button