I went out for my usual morning constitution,having been discharged from Mt. Carmel Hospital some several weeks earlier. Ultimately,I ended up at Midnight Rock for my morning water. (Nothing alcoholic had passed my lips for a good few months now.) I conversed with an old friend of mine, Harris, and nothing seemed untoward in any respect, except for the fact that I felt tired. I made my excuses and left for home and rest.
I laid down at home, where apparently I remained for two days. No eating, no internet, no TV. Nothing -dead to the world - if you pardon the expression. Stella, understandably, was concerned. She didn’t know if I was just tired from many sleepless nights, or what. My manageress also called in to check the situation. Apparently, I was confused and dizzy. Stella thought that maybe I had had a minor stroke. Dr. Tan referred me back to St. Carmel Hospital. The doctor on duty asked my name, age and if I knew where I was. I managed to answer all the questions, but not necessarily in the right order, not even in the order that they were asked. I did not know my name, or where I was, and I had lost some 30 years off my age. He should have asked the nurses, they all knew me by name, and that I was a pianist at Midnight Rock – which, eventually,he did do! Notwithstanding that, I was admitted to the intensive care unit, where I was connected to more devices than are housed at the NASA control centre.
The crux of my problem this time was Bilirubin, the yellow breakdown product of normal heme catabolism, caused by the body's clearance of aged red blood cells, which contain hemoglobin. It would appear that my departed red blood cells, whilst I am sorry to see them go, in fact, didn’t. This strange set of events is usually carried out the without the person’s knowledge, by their liver, within the process called the autonomic nervous system. In my case, as my liver was impaired, this relatively ubiquitous task went unnoticed by me. Until, that is, it manifested itself by way of an extremely confused and agitated personality.
I had no idea what was happening until I was once again taken back to hospital and full day had passed. One good thing about this condition is that bilirubin is degraded by light. Dr. Tan did point this out to me some weeks ago - however, the significance of this escaped me at the time. So I was discharged four days later, when I had to make sure that I adhered to my newly-found facts. Unfortunately, all this was affecting my Midnight Rock bar. My performances had remained on the back shelf all this while, as I was, for the first time in my life, unable to bear the strength incumbent with my extrovert shows.
So, for now, apart from my normal medicines, I have also affiliated the latter character from the 1931 song by the flamboyant English songwriter, Sir Noël Coward - the Englishman part, not the mad dogs part. Although, undoubtedly, there are some out there who would categorise me under both characters.
My last blog concerning my newly-discovered medical indisposition was entitled ‘Ghosts, Globulins and Campanology’. In this thrilling installment, I can add to those words the apothegm ‘Goblin’, better known as a grotesque sprite, or elf, that is mischievous or malicious toward people. In my opinion, sprite has always been a word associated with grotesque, hence my present predicament. And what has Goblin got to do with this narrative? Well, all is about to be revealed (although, not to the extent of the all-pervading sponge bath).
Cocos nucifera is the scientific name of the common coconut. And cocos means "spectre goblin". The hollow at the center of the coconut is filled with a thin, slightly sweet liquid, that can be used as a beverage. People of the Philippines call coconuts by a variety of names, which reflect its usefulness to societies - Tree of Life, Tree of Abundance, Tree of Heaven. Almost every part of a coconut palm is used. It is a primary source of food, water, drink, purifier, fluid re-hydration, isotonic, energy, tonic, fuel, soil rejuvenator from the fiber, animal feed, and shelter. Nature has provided us with a tree that produces the world’s best water. Some other adjectives are often called into play, especially when one is attempting to crack open the damn thing! Of course, Filipinos have no problem with this mundane task, and much enjoyment is acquired by watching the inexperienced lose a digit here and there in the process. I am now a coconut water junkie.
Let us return to the relative safety of the hospital, back in ICU. Along with the cocktail of other drugs that were administered, I was also given another blood transfusion, due to my now congenital anaemia -decrease of the amount of hemoglobin in the blood. Around 20 milliliters of blood is taken during every blood test that I participated in. This happens between once a day to 6 or 7 times a week, which works out at around to 140 ml a week. That’s almost half a pint! So, to my reckoning, they take out roughly half a pint a week. I’m no Einstein, but without replacing the missing milliliters, at half a pint a week, I’d soon be empty! Even the legendary Tony Hancock picked up on this when he went to donate a pint of blood: When the doctor tells him it was only a test smear, and that he must donate a pint of blood, Hancock protests, "I don't mind giving a reasonable amount, but a pint!? That's very nearly an armful, I’m not walking around with an empty arm for anybody!”
When I was bored in hospital, I looked at the various signs around my room. I noticed on the patient's door, next to mine, the warning: 'Needle prick aversion'. Ah, so I wasn't the only person scared of needles and such like. I checked my door to see if I had a similar notice. I needn't have worried. It was there in all its glory, adorned for all to observe. There was just one minor glitch. When they left the door of my room open, the first word of the 'needle prick aversion' notice was covered from sight, leaving the salutation: 'Prick aversion'. Still, better safe than sorry, that's what I say. That also brings me to another dilemma; why is it that we sit 'up' at night and sit 'down' during the day?
All this talk of globulins and goblins reminds me, that all I'm missing is a hob. (That's a small grotesque supernatural creature that makes trouble for human beings - not the kind you cook on). When I was a kid and in bed alone, if I got scared (or got the heebie-jeebies, to paraphrase Little Richard), I would hide under the bed, where, invariably,I’d fall asleep. I soon grew out of that when people referred to me as ‘a little potty’. Anyway, no chance of being alone in hospitals here. There is always someone coming in and out, checking blood pressure, temperature and fluids (in and out). Then, when you are just dropping off, a kindly nurse wakes you up and gives you something to make you sleep. Still, it all goes to make the day go faster. If it wasn’t for the injections, etc., I still say that the hospital would make a lovely hotel.
Still, they all did a sterling job to get me out of there, and I was discharged after 4 days. My only regret was that when my feet and ankles swelled up, prior to going to hospital (because of the lack of Albumen in my system), I thought that my feet were just getting bigger due to the heat, and so I bought a new pair of slippers. Once Dr. Tan had corrected my Albumen deficiency and I was discharged, my new shoes were too big for me. Why is life so complicated?!
I came to the Philippines (for the second time) in 2008, my first adventure having taken place in 1985. I left the UK, my place of birth, in 1975, playing shows around the world. Everywhere I performed I was met by tens of thousands of screaming girls – nevertheless, I would always go on stage! This continued from thence on, in a downward fashion. I have lived in the UK, Spain, France, Germany, Finland, Hong Kong, Portugal, Macao, Japan, USSR, and many other places too difficult to spell. In short, I have always been a troubadour, a wanderer. That is the reason that I would now like to stay here in the Philippines, if at all possible. And here I'll stay, even if it kills me. For now, I'm not in too much pain, but depression clouds the issue.