A few years ago, I had an emergency appendectomy. It presented suddenly and it’s the most sick I’ve ever felt in my life. I was fine until about ten o’clock the night before and then I started to feel a bit nauseous. This led to a sleepless night where I was in and out of bed, dry heaving and experiencing extreme temperature fluctuations from boiling hot to freezing cold. In short, I thought I had the worst bout of food poisoning known to man.
The next day saw me visiting the doctor after someone suggested it might be my appendix. After undergoing the required tests, I was immediately booked into hospital and rushed through to surgery. My appendix apparently burst just as I went under the knife. So, I was fortunate that I went into surgery in time and here I am to tell the tale.
Now, I suppose any normal person would think the whole appendix bursting/emergency surgery thing was the traumatic part of this story. Well, that was a walk in the park. The real trauma started when I opened my eyes after surgery to find that I was now roommates with a senile, old woman – a very senile, batty, old doll.
From what I gathered, she was in hospital after suffering a hip injury when her enormous dog apparently knocked her over at home. However, she had now been in hospital for quite some time, as she refused to get out of bed or receive any assistance with her rehabilitation.
Hence, she spent her days babbling non-stop to herself, fighting with the nurses and the physio and just generally being a terror. Yet, all that was bearable – well, for me anyway.
What I could not handle was the fact that she called for a bedpan every time I was in the middle of my meals. I mean, it’s rather difficult to eat when someone is making questionable sounds from the other side of the curtain between you. Thanks! You just killed my appetite – and I haven’t eaten for like thirty-six hours now, but that’s okay! You do what you got to do. I’ll just practice my breathing or hold my breath or something. Seriously! I know nature is calling, but could you ask him to call back later?
Her other interesting quirk involved the poor teddy bear, which was perched at the end of her bed. This seemingly friendly bear, which had no doubt been a gift from a relative, was subjected to one scolding after another. At intervals throughout the day, she would repeatedly say “Naughty Colin!” and even wag her finger disapprovingly at him. It was only when visiting hours arrived that I realised poor Colin was her granddaughter’s boyfriend – and, of course, she didn’t scold Colin the bear when Colin the boyfriend was there. Although, after what I’d witnessed, I had little doubt how she felt about the real Colin.
Thankfully, I only had to put up with her for two days, but I could not get out of that mental asylum – I mean, hospital – fast enough. I was so relieved to go home and to be able to recuperate in peace and quiet. I’m just sorry I had to leave poor Colin the bear behind.
However, if I thought I was free from the quirks of old dolls I was mistaken. After my operation, my mom phoned my grandmother to tell her the news. The conversation went as follows:
“Audrey had her appendix removed.”
“Yes, I know. There are no babies yet.”
“No, Audrey had her appendix out.”
“Oh, that’s not important. You can get rid of that. You don’t need it.”
Yup! I’d just had a fairly serious operation where I couldn’t walk properly for two weeks, but what did that matter. Where were the babies? Why wasn’t I procreating? That’s what really counted, right?
Honestly, grandparents are great! But when they fixate on babies, start losing their minds and resort to scolding innocent teddy bears to express their feelings, then I’d rather have my appendix out all over again.
Audrey Whyte 
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