A friend called me and told me that they wish that they didn’t feel anything. I told them that they were wrong for thinking that way. When I was first admitted they made me take anti-depressants. I fell out of my wheelchair and broke my hip and it just happened. I didn’t feel angry or sad, it just happened. Now I don’t feel anything but frustration. I am stuck within the wheel and it is making me angry and facetious



I was waiting on the street for a ride. I leaned forward in my wheelchair and did a loud fart. The fart sounded wonderful but scared me ‘cause I couldn’t feel it coming. A woman walked past. I sat up straight and did another long whining fart. It must have lasted three seconds. She looked down and laughed. I took that as a good sign, in my mind, as I cringed. She had a soft delicate laugh. It reminded me of innocence and petunias. There is no need to fear a woman who laughs at farts

I got to the hospital. The car dropped me at the gate and I entered the foyer. I pulled out the piece of paper and asked the lady at reception how and she gave me directions. She said the directions and I wondered at how I would get there? You’re in the wrong building, she’d said. She’d started telling me how I would get there. I stopped her halfway and said, sorry. I told her that I’ve had a brain injury so she may as well be talking Swahili. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind drawing a diagram to show me how to get there. She got up from behind the desk and told me she would take me. She walked with me for just over a minute. She walked me across the hospital to the Private section and led me to the lifts. I made the sort of small talk you must make when you are in somebody’s debt as we ascended. She took me up to the door where I asked her name? She told me but I will never remember

You would be fucked if you were sick and a racist in Australia. Most of the nurses and orderlies were from Asia. A white nurse led me to a cubicle and told me to take my singlet and tracksuit pants off. She asked if I could do it myself and I said yes. She tossed a white blanket on the bed. I took them off and lay with the blanket over me. She was gone for just long enough for me to start to get annoyed. After pulling the blind and the blanket off the first thing she did was place large splodges of clear gel on both ankles, on the inside of my wrists and halfway up the insides of my thighs. Then she got a silver pen wired to a machine and placed it on the gel and listened. It was loud. I could hear it too. The noise sounded familiar. I know I’ve had this test before but I mean it sounded familiar familiar. It reminded me of a Doctor Who episode

The technician had apologised for the cold of the gel. I’m sick of reality so I said, yesss it was cold. She started to say something but stopped as she placed the pen on the inside of my thigh. Her left hand brushed my penis. Mmmm. What, I asked? It’s very nice, she said as she smiled. You should see it when it’s not in a hospital, I replied. My husband, she said, is a forward gunner in the military… …….So what’s wrong with me, I asked. I dunno, she said, as she placed the pen up my nose. You’re pulse is good. Then how come my feet look dead, I said, and why are they always bleeding and covered in pressure sores? I don’t know, she said as she started running the pen back down my abdomen. She got firmer with the pen against me. I looked down and saw she had my balls in her hand. I could hear my pulse get quicker. She was still moving that pen up and down. As my dick started getting bigger the noise on the monitor became garage drum ‘n bass. There’s nothing wrong with the circulation, she said. Well how come I keep bleeding, I asked? I dunno, she said, maybe you’ve got your period? Alice Cooper, I replied, said only women bleed. He has a woman’s name, she replied. So what are you saying, I asked, I’m a woman with a man’s name? I don’t think so, she said, you’ve got those big hairy balls between your legs. We stared at each other silently for too long so she left

I got dressed and waited at the front desk for my discharge summary and a referral to see a surgeon. I saw a woman pushing a stand with a bag above and a cannula in her coming towards me. She was walking down the corridor wearing a short lemon nightie and an opened short white bathrobe. As she got closer I saw she would have been in her forties. She had held together well with nice breasts. I knew she was coming up to talk to me as soon as I had seen her eyes. She looked nuts but not nuts enough to be mistaken for crazy. She was crazy. It has always been the crazy ones. She stood right in front of me and asked, did you know that the aliens have already landed? I shook my head. Yeah, she said, they landed in Sydney and nobody noticed. They’ve been going around sticking their long thin green dicks into females out in Kings Cross after midnight. That’s probably why you haven’t heard about it. How do you know, I asked? I’m one of them, she said

I had to get away from her. She thought she had been fucked by an alien. There are different types of crazy and hers was making me sad. It would be easy for any one of us to fixate on one thing. But we don’t. I asked a woman walking past with a bunch of flowers where the lifts were. She turned and pointed so I headed towards them. I found the ground button and pushed it. The lift was somewhere above me. I looked down at the trashcan as I waited. I saw her coming towards me from my periphery. It is always a crazy woman. I’ve fucked crazy women and I’ve fucked sane. Sane always beats crazy. Crazy is only cute while you’re fucking them. I heard her say, you probably haven’t heard about it! She said, it’s probably ‘cause you’re a bloke. And even if you had heard about it who is going to believe a drunken woman’s story about being fucked late on a Saturday night by an alien with a long thin green dick?

She kept blabbering and I became silent. I cannot take another’s madness. It’s already full at the inn. The lift eventually came as I pretended I couldn’t hear her. She knew I was pretending to not hear her and desisted. I only wish one day would feel normal. On the way out a woman in a white jacket smiled at me. I asked her if she would like to come outside and have a cigarette? No, she said, I’m an oncologist. What, I said, does that come after Aquarius? No, she said, that means that I’m a doctor that specialises in cancer. Cancer, I asked, I thought that came after Aquarius? No, she said, I specialise in cancer the disease not Cancer the star-sign. Does that mean you don’t want one, I asked? No, she said. Fair enough, I replied, do you mind if I have one? Whatever, she said, it’s your funeral. A car pulled up in front of us and i watched her get in. She looked at me and smiled as the car pulled away. I lit the cigarette and i smiled



Andrew Stuart Buchanan

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