As I recalls it:
Now Ian was a big lad, 6'3" and 16 and a half stone, who had broken his leg very badly in a car accident.
After three months in traction, the doctor's discovered that his broken leg was now much shorter than the other (I know not why).
First remedial treatment was to put a pin through his ankle and suspend weights over the end of the bed in an attempt to "stretch" his leg. Yes I know, weird, but that's my recollection.
Unfortunately this failed and the second treatment was even worse. Ian had to have a bone graft and was put in plaster from just below his chest, all the way down the broken leg and to just pass his other knee. A wooden bar, just above the knee, kept his legs apart.
Now, as you can maybe imagine, this posed some problems in the ablutions' department.
Fortunately, whoever had applied the plaster had had the foresight to leave two strategically located apertures.
This, whilst obviously being very uncomfortable, allowed Ian to satisfied his most basic of needs.
Until that is the fateful day.
Four nurses, with the aid of a block and tackle, had managed to turn Ian over in order to administer his now regular mini bed-bath to, how shall I put it, his nether regions.
Ian was a very quiet-spoken man, and from the next bed, I barely heard him warning the nurses to move away. Unfortunately none of the nurses heard his warning of the impending catastrophe.
Pressure had obviously been building up under the massive plaster for some considerable time and Ian's body had decided that this was not good for him and needed to be expelled at the earliest possible opportunity.
Ian, lying face down on the bed, resembling a half-dressed Michelin man, was powerless to react and nature took its' course.
Two nurses were treated for shock, the bomb squad were mobilised and a glazier was summoned to repair the shattered window pane.
Ah happy days.
PS Never once did I hear any of the nurses complain about having to lift such a heavy weight which they do day in and day out - fantastic.
