A Second Near-Fatal Dose of Laughter

I was encouraged to walk as much as possible in hospital in order to kick-start the old bowels again. One evening, when I was hobbling around the hospital's main floor with my Rare One, she suddenly asked, "Do you have any money on you?" Slowly and with some difficulty, I pulled out my little change purse from my housecoat pocket. "Great!" she said, snatching it from me and turning away to rifle through its contents. "Ooooh, a fiver and a ten! That'll be enough!"

"Help, help!" I called out in a weak voice, "I've been mugged! I'm only a poor surgery patient, minding my own business, and this big, strong, healthy person has just mugged me!"

This sent us both into gales of laughter, with predictable results for me (as per yesterday's post). In all fairness, though, I recognize my own role in promoting this painful episode, so it's not entirely fair to blame this near-fatal incident solely on my Rare One!