A very good friend of mine with whom I've been sharing my twisted view of the world for years, has been going through a very tough time in hospital where they did unspeakable things to that crucial organ to which we used to outsource all our thinking in our younger days.
As his daughter remarked, she couldn't imagine going through something like this without counselling and the full-time support of all her family and friends. My friend didn't have the heart to point out to her that it would've been anatomically impossible anyway.
The catheter is out and my friend is home again, and everything is back under control, except his bladder which keeps leaking. Maybe that's why it's called the Wheel of Life: we pee in bed when we're young, and we pee in bed when we're old (bedwetters never even bothered to stop).
Cheer up, Chris! You've got through Bougainville; you'll get through this! Before you know it, you'll be singing the Lumberjack Song again.
His reply? "Thanks, but your song is not right up my alley. Here's mine."
My reply to his reply? "You may prefer the German version, Chris!"
