Mr. Tshabalala gets a call from the hospital. They tell him his wife has
been in a terrible car accident. He rushes to Baragwanath Hospital and,
as soon as he gets there, he identifies himself and is told Doctor Mtolo
is handling the case. They page the doctor. He comes out to the waiting
room to see a terribly upset Mr. Tshabalala.
"Mr. Tshabalala?" the doctor asks.
"Yes, doctor, what's happened? How is my wife?"
The doctor sits next to him and says, "Not good news. Your wife's
accident resulted in two fractures on her spine."
"Oh my God!" says Mr. Tshabalala, "what is the prognosis?"
"Well, Mr. Tshabalala, her vital signs are stable. However, her spine is
inoperable. She'll have no motor skills whatsoever. This means you will
have to feed her."
Mr. Tshabalala begins to sob.
"And you'll have to turn her in her bed every two hours to prevent
pneumonia."
Mr. Tshabalala begins to wail and cry loudly.
"Then, of course," the doctor continued, "you'll have to diaper her
as she'll have no control over her bladder and obviously these diapers
must be changed at least five times a day."
Mr. Tshabalala begins to shake as he cries, sobs, wails.
The doctor continues: "And you'll have to clean up her faeces on
a regular basis as she'll have no control over her sphincter either.
Her bowel will engorge whenever and quite often, I'm afraid. Of course
you must clean her immediately to avoid accumulation of the putrid
effluent she'll be emitting regularly."
Now Mr. Tshabalala is convulsing uncontrollably and beginning to wither
off the bench into a sobbing and pitiful mess.
Just then, Dr. Mtolo reaches out his hand and pats Mr. Tshabalala on
the shoulder. "Hey, I'm just playing with you, man! Relax, she's dead!"
[Contributed by Peter]
-----------------------------------------------------------
Posts
All Comments
