nimtathren

I leave hospital with a plastic pipe inserted into my chest wall, which drains off excess fluid into a little plastic grenade. I carry the contraption around in a handmade floral shoulder bag donated by the kind ladies at St Vincent’s hospital. The only real issue with the drain bag is that I keep forgetting it’s attached to my chest wall, so I tend to put it down and walk off, until the pain snaps me back like a toddler on the end of a psychological leash deciding, mid tantrum, that he really does need to follow mum out of the supermarket.