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It was in the summer past,
When I had a raging cold.
I felt something move ‘down there’
It was protruding and bold.
 
No, it wasn’t my male part,
The lump was next to that.
I could feel a bit of discomfort,
When I sat.
 
I phoned my mum in Elgin,
And asked her what it could be.
‘I will tell you one thing, Christopher,
It sounds like a hernia, to me.’
 
A weakness in the stomach wall,
The muscle poking through.
To see about some surgery,
Is what I had to do.
 
Off I went to the doctor,
He would organise the op.
Hopefully in the next few months,
Then discomfort, it will stop.
 
Eight months later in theatre,
I finally get it done.
They put a needle in my hand,
I don’t even count to one.
 
Questioning the plaster by my hip,
And feeling as groggy as hell.
The nurses say to me ‘You’ve had your op,
Can’t you even tell?’
 
Being kept in overnight,
As there is no-one else at home.
The other patients have all gone now,
Me and two nurses alone!
 
Got a lift from the hospital,
Now staying at Angela and Neil’s
Being waited on hand and foot,
I could get used to how this feels.
 
I’ve taken the dressing off now,
There is bruising all around.
All my bits a blackened colour,
Praying they don’t fall to the ground.
 
Five weeks to recover,
By then I should be ok.
Back to work, lifting heavy goods,
Don’t happen again, is all I can say.

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