Easy As Falling Off A Bike - Hard As Landing On The Road!
by Angharad & Bouncing Bonzi
part 371.

The next few days were as boring as before, perhaps more so as I was staying awake more of the time. Stella came in every day in time for Dr Kelly's coffee break or lunch. If he was busy, she stayed and chatted with me.

At the end of that week, I was off all the machines and breathing much more easily, I could now laugh without it hurting, although coughing was not a good idea. I wondered how long would it take to get fit for riding again.

They decided to put me straight into a medical ward instead of high dependency. Young Dr Kelly still came to see me each day, as did Stella and they tended to disappear together. I was now able to walk to the loo and to shower myself, so thoughts of going home came increasingly to my mind.

I began to ask the doctors and the ward sister when I could go home.

"You have to appreciate how ill you've been, you very nearly died." The sister replied.

"Yes, I was there, part of the time anyway."

"I don't think you realise how much blood you lost."

"Is that why I keep feeling like I'm somebody else?" I said in response and the stupid doctor thought I meant it. Thank goodness I didn't actually say, but I'm a Jehova's Witness. I was simply bored out of my brain.

I did discover the hospital had a gym attached and did manage to go down and do some mild exercising and then zonked out afterwards. I was in one such post exercise coma when Stella came to visit and her Siamese twin Dr Kelly appeared milliseconds later. When they found I 'd been on an exercise bike for an hour, they went somewhat ballistic. I'd only done twelve miles, why the fuss?

"Cathy, are you raving mad?"

"I will be if I stay here much longer."

"It could take you up to two years to recover from the sort of experience you've had, you nearly died." Padraig tried to lay down the law.

"Yes but that was with boredom, since I discovered the gym, life has been better."

"Stella told me you like to ride regularly and are quite good."

"What else did she tell you?" I asked.

"That trying to get you to cooperate with taking it easy, would be pretty well impossible."

"Yes I did," she stood there arms crossed across her chest.

"Did she also tell you, she's a pathological liar, given to delusional states and that she once tried to convince Tom she was a hedgehog?"

"No she didn't," he gave me a very funny look.

"Damn, it must be my medication, then."

He looked at me even more strangely, then glanced at Stella. Suddenly, he began to snigger, which then grew into a chuckle: from whence it became a chortle, a laugh and finally a guffaw. He obviously liked to build up to a laugh.

"You two are crazy," he pronounced finally.

"If you think we're crazy, you should see her step-mum, she is barking, probably something to do with her having come from Labrador." As I said this, even Stella's stony countenance began to crack and she snorted.

"Just what am I going to do with you?" Padraig asked me, actually, I think he asked anyone with an opinion, I just happened to answer first.

"Send me home, I can get a nurse to pop in everyday." Unless she's out with you, I felt like adding, but didn't.

"I'm going to start charging you fees if you think I'm going to stay home and look after you." Stella sounded quite serious to the uncultured ear.

"I'll get my fiance to pay them, he's a banker you know!" I sneered at her.

"Banker, I must have misheard that earlier," she riposted.

"Ladies, please, have some decorum."

"Nah, it's too fattening," I said.

"It is not, not if you get the decorum lite, it has the secret ingredient, manners - which cost nothing and weigh even less." Stella was back on form.

"Manners! Pah! What do you know about manners, you who think that racism, is believing in what's going to win the Derby?"

"Isn't it? You mean to tell me it's something else?"

"I'm afraid so, and theism, isn't a belief in the definite article."

Padraig had to leave the room he was laughing so much. When he returned a few moments later, he said, "You two should be on the stage doing stand-up or improvisations."

"I don't think so," I said, "most audiences fail to catch the speed of the one liners. Consequently, they miss most of them."

"I'm not entirely surprised. I hear you like Monty Python." He asked me.

"I have been known to watch the odd one several times."

"Why am I not surprised?" he said.

"It's nothing to do with BBC saying anything, either. No, it's just the surreal experience when you two get going."

"What!" I tried to sound shocked and distressed, instead giving an impression of a broken bell push. "I am cut to the quick," I said emotionally - all of it false.

"Yeah, but we healed that," he said quickly before anyone else could.

"Can I go home then?"

"Tomorrow, I shall have words with my boss, if he says, okay, you can go."

"Oh good. Right, wench, pack me a bag." I said to Stella.

"Wench! I'll go and get a wrench, and bang you on the head with it."

"Leaving here will be such a wrench." I said dramatically.

"Yeah, monkey variety," said Stella ending the discussion.