Thurles Information

My best mate Mikey Ryan failed to turn up in the Arch Bar last Wednesday night, which I found, to say the least, rather unusual. Come to think of it, I hadn’t spotted him all week, so I decided to called over to the house, to discover he was recovering from flu like symptoms.

Despite looking a bit peaky, he informed me that being confined by his doctor to get bed rest, has been a happy and a most rewarding experience.

“How so?”, said I.

“Well”, said Mikey bursting with pride, “I’ve found out how much my wife truly loves me – she’s been thoroughly pleased just to have me confined once again within the bosom of our family.”

“How do you conclude that?” said I

“Well”, said Mikey “Every time our postman; milkman; coal man or dustman come anywhere near our house, she’s running outside shouting “My husband is home! My husband is home!”

“Begod”, said I, “Maybe Mikey you should be really down in Limerick hospital, with that congested chest of yours?”

“Limerick Hospital!”, Mikey raised his voice, “Limerick Hospital me arse; sure there is serious overcrowding down in that place, which has led to calls from them lodgers in the Health Service Executive (HSE) for people to consider all other options, before attending their emergency department. Sure, there was 72 patients waiting for to find a bed down there this afternoon, making it by far the most overcrowded medical facility in the feckin country, and to make things even worse the present minority government and those who voted for them, couldn’t give a feck. Look truly, not enough people in North Tipperary are getting sick, that’s the bloody problem”, Mikey continued.

“By the way”, said Mikey “Mrs Browne, at No. 27, was telling my wife that her husband Paddy is due to undergo some serious medical tests shortly.”

“And what kind of test are being planned for poor Paddy”, I enquired sympathetically.

“Well it is a bit confusing really”, stated Mikey, “But according to Mrs Browne her phone rang yesterday asking to speak to herself. “Hello, may I speak with Mrs Browne, please”, a voice on the other end was heard to say.

“Speaking”, says Mrs Browne.

“Mrs Browne”, said the caller, “This is a consultant here at University Hospital Limerick (UHL). You might recall that your husband Paddy was referred to us here for some blood tests last week?”

“Yes”, replied Mrs Browne, in anticipation of results.

“Well”, said the caller, “I regret to inform you that when the laboratory attendant received Mr Browne’s blood sample, a further blood sample arrived from another Mr Browne, and we are now uncertain as to which sample was actually your husband’s. Either way it is my unpleasant duty to inform you that both results are not very promising in the long term.”

“What do you mean?”,  Mrs Browne queried, her voice shaking.

“Well, one of these tests proved positive for Alzheimer’s, and the other test was positive for Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS), said the caller, “And I regret to bring you the news that we can’t tell which disease is actually applicable to your husband.”

“That’s dreadful!”, exclaimed Mrs Browne. “But can’t you do the test again?”

“Normally we could, but the Health Service Executive (HSE) and the Minister at the Department of Health, due to cutbacks and overcrowding, are only prepared to pay the costs for one of these extremely expensive blood tests.”

“And what are you suggesting that I should do now?”, requested an angry Mrs Browne.

“My medical colleagues and I at UHL”, continued the caller, “Would suggest that the best scenario would be to drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of the hills above the Upperchurch or the Kilcommon area of Co. Tipperary and if he manages to find his way home unassisted, we suggest you don’t sleep with him in the same bed for the foreseeable future.”

Arch Bar, Liberty Square, Thurles.

I hear that Mikey Ryan is back in the wars again with the wife. I called into the Arch Bar, on Liberty Square in Thurles looking for him, but unusually for a Saturday, to no avail.

However, Pat the barman, with a knowing wink, said not to expect him out and about again for a few days.

I knew he had been forced to trade his building site for the Doctor’s surgery on Wednesday afternoon, two weeks ago. He was complaining of abdominal pain and bloating; symptoms rather akin to bad constipation.

On that same Wednesday night, however, he had informed me that the doctor had donned the plastic gloves and opened the lid on a new jar of Vaseline, before examining him carefully.

“Bend over the back of that desk chair”, said the Doc with a knowing nod.  A somewhat embarrassed Mikey had obeyed and imagine his surprise, when the doctor hit him with 3 or 4 heavy wallops on his arse with a baseball bat, before rushing him into the bathroom.

When the relieved, (in every sense), patient eventually emerged out of the Khazi, Mikey informed his doctor that he now felt truly great and inquired as to what had caused this initial problem. The doctor then explained, (but not before folding away his €65.00 fee), that Mikey should, in future, cease wiping his arse with empty cement bags.

So that little problem surely wasn’t the reason for Mikey’s absence. Just then came a brief lull in the business and Pat called me over to explain quietly Mikey’s current predicament, making me swear to keep it under my hat and not to impart anything to a solitary soul. Well he knows I am the soul of discretion when it comes to the imparting of personal information.

Well, it seems that Thursday two weeks ago was pay day, so instead of going home, Mikey had stayed out from that Thursday until the following Sunday with a couple of his mates, which in turn resulted in the spending of his entire wage packet.

When he eventually appeared back home on the Sunday night, he was confronted by an angry wife and through a hail of saliva, he was tongue lashed, for nearly two hours with verbal condemnation truly befitting his most recent activity. Baring her teeth, she demanded to know, “How would you like it if you didn’t see me for two or three days?”

It seems Mikey had replied, “That would be fair enough with me.”

The result was that Monday had gone by and he didn’t see his wife; Tuesday and Wednesday came and went with the same results. But on Thursday, according to Pat, the swelling had subsided just enough so that he could see her out of the corner of his left eye.

“You can give me a pint and a chaser, so”, said I