Or…… “How I confused my valves with my constipants.”

It was only minor as far as football injuries go. Just a scratch – literally. But a week later I writhed in agony through the night, with mum anxiously trying to wait it out till the morning before ringing the doctor. Sepsis, or blood poisoning. I was immediately admitted to Forbes District Hospital where I spent the next week wondering how such a small scratch could have become a life-threatening condition. I was only 14 at the time and had never spent any time in hospital, other than keeping Greg company while we both had kerosene pumped out of our little tummies. The least I could do for him after he had accompanied me to my first day of school. There might have been another occasion, as mum recalled, where I mistook a bottle of kero for a bottle of lemonade and went to hospital, but I have no recollection of either incident. In any case, that brings me back to the Spice Girls. There were three Spice Girls – and their brother, “Brain”. There was Marie, the fence-rocker (I know, you wouldn’t be able to say that today, but these are the recollections of a child in the 60’s); Cecily- the fighter. And Francis, the nurse. Francis was the eldest, about 18 I would think at this time, quite attractive for a “house-o” (I know, you couldn’t say that today, but I did marry one), and she worked at Forbes District Hospital. I was assigned to her care. Every day, Nurse Spice would come to my ward and greet me thus: “Good morning, how are you today? Have you opened your bowels?” I considered the question, going through every word in my vocabulary and not coming up with “bowel” or its meaning, and answered no. I had not opened anything, so I felt reasonably confident that this was the required answer. She would write something in her notebook, and disappear (I was going to say, “into the bowels of the hospital,” but of course I would not have thought that then). The next morning, Nurse Spice would reappear, and ask the same questions. “No”, I would reply, “I have not”. As the week wore on, and I appeared to be recovering well, Nurse Spice seemed to be getting more concerned as she penciled into her notebook each morning. On about the 5th day, she finally changed her approach. “Look. You need to tell me. Have you done a poo!” Unbelievable! Such a personal question from a pretty little nurse! Red-faced and ashamed, I admitted that I had indeed “opened my bowels” probably more than once since being admitted, and I could never look her in the face again.