Hold that as long as you can

As I wait to be called for surgery, my mind goes back to previous hospital experiences ...

My children were delivered by caesarian section, and when you have surgery like that and the doctors have been groping around your innards, everything in the vicinity starts to work a little bit more slowly.

Such was the case after Michael was born, to the extent that three days after he was delivered, the nurse on duty decided I should have an enema. I'll be honest, I hadn't a clue what she was talking about, but being the model patient and first time mum, I was happy to accept any freebies on offer.

Little did I know.

I don't remember too much of what actually happened, I just remember that after she had finished the procedure she muttered the immortal words 'hold that as long as you can', and left the room.

Three hours later ...

I remember pacing (OK, shuffling!) the ward and the sweat running in rivers down my face and back as I struggled to maintain control. It was only the look of sheer horror on my mum's face when she came to visit that evening that made me realise maybe I had got it wrong. At the time I could clearly see she was torn between diving under the bed for cover, and rushing to tell the story of the miraculous sphincter muscle to the tabloid press.

What she actually did was 10 times worse than either of those. She started to laugh.