Every catheter does have a silver lining

IT IS true that every cloud has a silver lining... you just have to look for it.

I was reminded of this last weekend when I found myself, unexpectedly, in an emergency situation.

I pause here to salute and say thank-you to the staff of Toowoomba Hospital’s Emergency Department and those of the surgical ward who were not just professional but courteous and, at times when appropriate, entertaining.

Acknowledgement also to my room-mates Alex, Doug and Rick who shared so many laughs amid what were trying times for us all that it was almost worthwhile getting sick.

Without being too graphic, three of the four us had catheters attached.

If you don’t know what a catheter is you’ll have to Google it because I’m not about to explain it here.

Suffice to say they are not the most comfortable medical devices.

Fortunately, I’d had the experience before when I’d had surgery four years ago during the last Ashes tour which seems to coincide with my hospital stays.

In Townsville the catheter was attached during the operation so I knew nothing of it until I was brought around later.

Feeling very groggy as I came to, I could hear the voice of my surgeon: “You are now in the ICU and you have a catheter attached...”

I opened my eyes to a heap of people around my bed attaching me to machines and asking my name and date of birth (couldn’t they just look at the chart?) and my brother at the foot of my bed.

As the crowd dispersed I saw my brother approach.

Now, having grown up together my brother and I know each other well and I knew he would know exactly what to say.

He leaned in and said: “Johnson just got Trott, the Poms are two for 13.”

Ordinarily, this would indeed be the most important answer I would be seeking but in the circumstances I must admit the three most pressing questions for which I sort answers were: “Where the hell am I? Who are all these people? and, What the hell is that thing hanging out of me?”

To my brother’s credit the knowledge that Mitch Johnson had the Pommy batsmen on the rack was a close fourth.

The catheter being attached for 10 days post surgery was a cloud, but it did have a silver lining.

My Godson, a surgeon, dropped in to see me at our Townsville unit and checked me over after which he asked if I’d had a beer yet.

“You’re on full diet, you know,” he said.

It was not long after that I found the silver lining.

With the larger catheter leg bag attached, I found you could have 10 beers before you even thought about going to the toilet — and only then to empty the bag before returning to the bar.

The young blokes at the Seaview Hotel on The Strand afforded me legendary status for such bladder control.

I never told them about the catheter.

❝say Suffice to

they are not the most comfortable medical devices.