KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

[Maureen K Clifford]

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES



We’d been in the bush over a week, sniggin’ and sawin’ logs,
clearing paddocks with dozers, and at night time shooting hogs.
The parents were there with us, both past their three score and ten
for my Dad had never been out bush but now he had a yen.

Loading firewood in the bucket of the end loader was fine.
Like a front row forward with a pass, you lift and throw in time
with the rhythm you’ve got going, bend and lift and grunt and swing
it had worked well overall all week – but then suddenly, a ping.

The pain was agonizing, on the ground I writhed and tossed
as the five dogs all stood watching – they were clearly at a loss
as to how this game was played for we had not played if before.
Eventually the boss noticed – stuck me in the four by four.

On Panadol I feasted for two days to kill the pain.
Slept upright in a camp chair – lying down gave little gain.
In the end I begged for mercy –‘to the Hospital’ I cried,
and the parents had to stay behind for five dogs had to bide.

We drove along the rutted tracks. Every pothole was found
and every corrugation plus a few more I’ll be bound.
Like a woman in labour I did the puff puff puff, pant blow,
not that it seemed to help at all a fact you all should know.

The Doc he took one look at me – a dag in flanno shirt
with torn and dirty jeans on and steel capped boots thick with dirt.
He took my hands in his two hands then peered close down each arm.
How nice I thought, he’s making sure that they’ve sustained no harm.

I told him what the problem was, or what I thought I’d done.
Told him ‘I need admittance and painkillers in me bum.’
He seemed to be not quite convinced though tears of pain I shed
he gave me bloody Panadol – ‘take two of these’ he said.

Admittance to his pristine wards he would not give to me
though I had Health Insurance – wasn’t wanting it for free.
Then he stalked majestic from the room and said loud to the nurse
‘there’ll be no admittance here tonight ‘ – and then I heard him curse.

So outside we went and once again I climbed into the truck,
asked the other half to shoot me but seems I was out of luck
for the rifle had been left behind with my Dad at ‘Dilladerri’
just in case a snake came crawling or feral pigs got makin’ merry.


Well cut to the chase, we made it back – over still more corrugations.
Told the parents to start packing – fought like the league of nations.
He didn’t want to leave - I insisted on going home
back to the city, where my Doc would for the country Doc atone.

She took one look, she poked and prodded, said ‘Oh deary me
it’s a ripped groin muscle that you have...how painful that must be.’
‘Do you reckon??? Let me tell you it’s the worst pain I’ve had ever
and I’ve had my share over the years but pain like this? No never.’

She gave me an injection of morphine...my God what bliss.
I was up there on cloud ninety nine, the other ninety eight I‘d missed
She prescribed rest, two weeks off work – all of which came to pass.
Eventually pain subsided – but you should have seen my ass.

And it wasn’t till much later when I stopped and thought a bit
about the Doctor in the country town who in judgement did sit.
I suspect he thought that I was just a townie after dope.
For my pain and anguish he cared not – yet he was my last hope.

He judged me on appearance. Clothes and boots covered in dirt,
but it’s too hard cutting firewood in a camisole and skirt.
He judged us both as layabouts, people of ill repute
and if I pass his way again this fact I will dispute.

This Doctor in a country town needs a blowtorch up the ass,
and I’ll be happy to light it, should once again our paths pass.
For his treatment was quite callow, he too was elderly not spunky
and I was well past fifty – not some young drugged out teen junky.

Maureen Clifford © 04/11

[Heather]

Dems fightin' words Maureen! You should send the country doc a copy of the poem.

Heather

[Zondrae]

G'day Maureen,

This is a sorry situation if it is a true story. I was more fortunate with my encounters with country doctors. In fact, I contracted Hep A when living at Tabulam (between Tenterfield and Casino) and he bunged me in the cottage hospital at Bonalbo for three flamin' weeks- in isolation. So not only did I have to leave my kids, then ages 9, 3 and 2 (with their father who at that time couldn't boil water) but I had no one to talk to. I hadn't started writing poetry then. We sent for my mother-in-law who flew up (the only time she went in a plane in her life) from Wollongong to help out and she brought me some crocheting to pass the time. I still have the rug knocking round somewhere.

( to self....mmmm there is a poem in there somewhere.... and no big word of the day. I'll have to try harder!)

[Maureen K Clifford]

Totally true and never forgotten - the Sister involved was so apologetic she came out to the truck to suggest that maybe we should stay overnight at the Motel but that wasn't an option with Mum and Dad back at the property 70 klms away with 5 dogs, no phone, no transport,no neighbours and no bush skills and a generator that would eventually run out of fuel.

I probably should have reported him to the AMA - but there were a lot of blockies living around that area and a lot of dopeheads there - so he presumed we were too.