3 monday

*disclaimer: this is a series of the events that took place when i was admitted to hospital. i wrote a journal of the visit and decided to share it with you. because it’s awesome. all or most spelling mistakes are intentional.*


porridge. raisin biscuit skipped it. soy milk. i never drink the coffe.

today starts off really busy. not just for me. i’m talking about bustle.

“hi stuart i don’t know if you know who i am but i’m jeremy’s mum” this is rae she’s a nurse’s assistant.

“oh hi :)”

“yes my son always remembers loving to go to your house for dinner”

hey that’s a super huge compliment to my mom

mum comes in

*half whispering* “mom that guy acros the corner from me is giving me a hard time at night. he’s swearing and yelling about me when noone’s around. please if you tell anyone (and she will) do not talk about it in or around here (and she will, so don’t say i didn’t say so). i don’t want anyone to hear about this”

this is partly because i don’t want anyone to be jealous and i don’t want to validate his point about me being spoiled.

which i am.

because i’m a highly respected surgeon’s son.

yes, hospitals are like restaurants. special friends and family get special treatment. remember that. but it’s no reason to be jealous. unless someone dies. plus there’s still nothing we can do about the food.

so of course mum tells rae in the middle of the room and i yell at mum for embarassing me and rae tells mum about jeremy. but of course rae’s not gunna remember to tell my mum about jeremy loving my mum’s cooking. it’s ok i’ll tell her later.

so the wheel’s in motion.

i kn already hear them talking about a semi-private room

and i can hear general fuck face (he is kinda ugly) talking loudly about all the shit nobody asks him about. i guess that’s why he asks most of the questions.

now darren gets lots of visitors regularly. he must be a really nice guy. it’s good to know lot’s of people care about him. hey… who’s that girl with three-and-a-half-inch-heels? forget the guy. who’s that girl?

fuck face gets a visitor from home care nursing. ff lives in a bachelor home in kimberley by himself. originally from austria, he’s retired at 52. he used to do business in vancouver until he sold out and moved here. his dad’s 83 and still tells him “how to shit and where to do it”. his house, where he lives alone, no kids, has a one foot high stairway, with three steps, to his front door. no stairs inside but that’s enough to get him in some serious trouble if he decides he’s gonna do this alone (this will be important shortly). he suggests his great neighbours will be able to help him with this and his groceries instead of a home-care nurse.

hey dude. if it’s free, TAKE IT!

so fuckin fucky face m’gee there, idiot, decided to spill the beans about his accident after trying to give home-care nurse lady the deal about buying a good road bike (bicycle). she’s not technical into bikes so she takes a little in and tries to change the subject. here’s the subject they get into when fuck face is determined to “sell” not wearing a helmet

“oh no i can’t wear a helmet it just doesn’t feel right”

“oh wow oh not me. if i don’t wear one i just feel naked”

“it just became illegal recently and the cops, they know me, and they’re always too lazy to write me a ticket anyway”

so he’s not just a little bit dumb but invicible too. he even tried to ride with a tuesday night crew and they didn’t feel comfortable riding with him if he wasn’t gonna wear a helmet so he says “who needs’em, right?” uh. you do pal.

so he’s riding around for a couple days in a row on his road bike on the bike trail from kimberley to cranbrook and the old rail bridge is still closed off, snow. so he sorta gets fed up with this and takes the highway and the wycliffe bridge instead. to get to it you make a right hand turn (from kimberley to cranbrook) at wycliffe road follow the road downhill around a little wind over a timber bridge and then up the road where you can either follow the road straight to cranbrook or take king street (which i live on, heh heh heh >:\ …) all the way into town.

well when he get’s there he’s going way too fast (50 some k/h instead of his regular 25). “i figured i could hold the line” but he catches a knot, it forces his thin ass tire into the crack enough to cause a high-speed wobble and he biffed bad.

4 inch gash in the head. plenty of road-rash. broke his right clav and right pelvis just enough to fuck’im up not enough to operate including minimal shattering of his right hip. ha. you can’t cast a pelvis or a collarbone. well that makes up for all the badgering. now i won’t dream of mrrdrrin his ass.

now you understand why he needs help up three stairs. no weight on th’leg fr 3 months no lifting with th’right arm fr 6 weeks.

how loud d’you think a 52 yr-old loner k’n say “my visectomy”. this guys voice booms in face to face conversation. goddam. musta mentiond that one three or four times that day.

roast beef sandwich. mmm mustard. some gross minestrone. lettuce. won’t digest it. tea. meh, red rose. drank it. soy milk. apple. can’t eat that unpeeled either. hm. i’ll take a quarter offit.

oh and his doc’salso a woman. and she’s wearing a skirt. well he must be satisfied cuz his physio therapist’s also a woman who knows lots about bikes. they had a great conversation where he repeated everything he just spat out just’s loud but he’s havin a good time.

“time to move ya stu”

oh rae you are a darling.

“could you give these mags back to darren? thanks”

“oh he’s leavin? well see ya later man”

see ya later suckers! hello semi-private room. with a window seat.

you can just imagine how it feels to not have to think about getting chewed out at night.

oh man that was demoralizing.

so i soak in the relaxing for a while. it’s great.

sweet’n’sour pork in rice with some veggies. ok this was the worst “entre” the entire trip. tea and all that. and a fruit cock tail fr d’srrt.

bathroom fr 2 and shit, i dropped the blood pump. that wasn’t a good idea. th’fuck do i do about that?

i guess don’t worry about

just put it back on she sez

hospitals are fucking disgusting FUCKING DISGUSTING

i gets m’dressins changed on m’hip there an they r’move the pump yay. wow that feels weird getn things pulled outta you. oh wow. a four inch gash. and that’s what staples look and feel like in a body. neato 🙂

i haven’t “bathed” yet so i ask th’nurse while she’s doin this if she can help me out.

“yeah i just need you t’ whipe m’ back and m’ left leggie and footie if you don’t mind”

well i don’t know how muchathat she caught but she definitely did not come back to do anyathat.

mbrushin ma teeff

hey there mums.

“go up and down”

“what the fuck?”

“sorry… go up and down”

“are you fucking kdding me?”

“sorry!” she fucks off fr a bit thank god. fuckin weirdo.

we go for a quik walk and end in the tv room again. I like to chat with my mum about stuff cuz she hardly ever agrees but the worst is she still thinks she can tell me how to do certain things. what a fuckin joke that is. that’s why i swear and dis her religion in front of her.


“oh hello, i’ll be your night nurse stuart. i’m pretty sure you went to school with my son”

“well who’s your son?”


“oh wow! yeah i know bridger:)”

“yeah i remember all of you being such characters”

“oh wow, yeah we used to call bridger the ultimate human”


“i haven’t seen him for like 6 or 7 years. is he still on the coast flyin helicopters and cuttin down trees?” he does storm control, gets paid a shit ton and i’m sure he’s twice as thick as he was when i saw him last. twice as thick as the time before that.

“oh yeah, he hardly ever comes home anymore. oh i remember you guys being such characters…”

i’m so happy that i know these people. hm:)

what’s that i hear?

is that a neighbour bird?

what’s a neighbour bird?

well i’ll tell you.

in edmonton we coined the term.

two doors down the neighbour bird enters the back yard.

he twists and flails and runs all about.

you can tell he’s out cuz he makes lots of noise.

a similar song every day i’m sure he’s working on his craft.

in edmonton this neighbour sings IYIYIYIYIYIYI and MREH and FUCK!

that’s a great name for a retard.

i love the songs but i wonder how many others just want him silenced.

well lucky you people he’s just got here today.

he yells all night. good night neighbour bird.

Stuart Driedger

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One thought on “3 monday

  1. […] 3 Monday stu forgets to mention his dad’s an ortho herb was cycling most of rails to trails he breaks his clav and pelvis and has had a vasectomy […]

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