Hello Mastitis, my old friend

This little ditty is a few weeks old now. As soon as I'd thought "well hello Mastitis my old friend" I couldn't get this damn song out of my fever dreams, complete with those ageing ex-folkies gently crooning it in my ear. At one point I was pretty sure Paul Simon had also invited Ladysmith Black Mambazo along for the ride, my head was pounding that badly.  Anyway, the song sort of works, though it gets a bit weird around the third verse.

The Sounds of Mastitis

Hello Mastitis, my old friend

You've come to make me sick again

There's a redness softly creeping

Over my breast while I was sleeping

And the fever that was planted

in my brain

Still remains 

Within the sound of mastitis

"It's all happening at the zoo."   [photo source]

To After Hours I went alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone

'Neath the halo of a medical lamp

Doc felt my breast it was hot and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of that neon light

He called it a blight

And touched the sounds of mastitis

And in the Doctor's eyes I saw

Ten thousand mothers, maybe more

Doctors talking without speaking

Doctors hearing without listening

Doctors writing scripts than voices never shared

And no one cared

For the sound of mastitis

"Fools" said I "you do not know

Mastitis like a cancer grows

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you"

But my words, like silent raindrops fell

And echoed

In the wells of mastitis

And the doctors bowed and prayed

To the penicillin god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said 

"The future use of antibiotics is written on the wall

of museum halls"

And whispered in the sounds of mastitis...

Thanks antibiotics, all better now.  And Mastitis, I'm singing a different tune now.  It goes: I am a rock, I am an island... I have no need for (your) friendship, (your) friendship causes pain...

Here's the tune, from happier times in the Simon & Garfunkel partnership.

Strange conversation #3: the pain of childbirth

This is one from the memory banks that I've been meaning to record for ages.

We're at a wedding, Milkbaby in tow. I'm making polite conversation with strangers. The groom's sister is pregnant. We soon get to talking babies, pregnancy, childbirth.

"I expect it will hurt a bit" she says.

"Um, yeah, it's hard to describe. It's different for everyone, but for me it started off feeling like quite bad period cramps."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"Yeah but then it ramps up." I'm struggling to find the words. I want to say something profound, but all I can think of is the bruising I was left with on my forehead from pushing my fists into my face during contractions. Not exactly a nice image. "But remember there's no pain between contractions, so you can relax and focus."

"Oh"

She's mulling this over. I scan her face, hoping I haven't scared the bejebus out of her. I look over her outfit. It's a quirky choice for a 'sister of the groom' look.

"I imagine it won't be any more painful than having your elbows tattooed." she says, somewhat out of the blue. 

I smile, keeping a poker face, as if she's just arrived at a sufficiently adequate comparison. "Hmm", I say agreeably.

"Because that was pretty painful."

I don't want to disavow her of this notion. Hey, who knows, maybe her labour will be no worse than the pain of having your elbows tattooed. Then again, probably not. It's better she finds out for herself.

"Yeah, it could be." I look at the mountains in the distance. "It could be."