A not-so-innocent nursery rhyme…

It’s raining, it’s pouring...
The old man is snoring…
He went to bed, and bumped his head…
And couldn’t get up in the morning…

It’s dark outside and my housemates are not home yet.  I’m in my room playing pointless-yet-addictive games on my pc, when I hear the patter of raindrops on the roof. This nursery rhyme rises from some forgotten corner of my mind like a dark thing from the swamps along the Sorrows.

What on earth were we singing?!

I do not recall the tune to which we sang it, or if there was a tune at all. There is a hazy recollection of a sunlit playground with children skipping merrily in a circle, hands linked, chant-singing off-key, totally oblivious to the implied state of the old man of whom we sang.

When I think of it now, with the rain marching across my roof, the only light the faint glow from my screen, I shudder in horror.

This poor old man…I want to believe he is just asleep but the innocent rhyme robs me of that comforting illusion. He is snoring because he “bumped his head and couldn’t get up in the morning…”

He is unconscious!

Maybe he was just mildly knocked out, you know, like he will come to anytime now and rub the nasty lump on his head where he bumped it, and shuffle to the fridge for a pack of iced-peas to soothe the bruise…?

Somehow, I don’t think his unable-to-get-up state is that simple either. More like, he bumped his head pretty hard and burst something inside it and he couldn’t get up in the morning because…

…he had an intracranial bleed!

…round and round we go, chanting merrily about old men and pouring rain, sweating in the warm mid-morning sun…

Or maybe something had already burst in his head, which is why he fainted and bumped his head even more on his way down…?

…

So…this poor old man…does he stay with a little old lady? Is one of the children visiting? Or grandchildren? Will they notice that Old Man is rather late in coming down for breakfast today? Will they assume that he is just enjoying a lie-in as he listens to the patter of raindrops on his windowsill? Will they carry breakfast up to his room, knocking gently on his door before letting themselves in, laden tray balanced precariously on one hip with one hand while the other turns the knob?

…What if the door is locked…?

When said child/grandchild/old woman lets self into the room, what will tip them off to the fact that the snoring from the bed is not normal-sleep-induced snoring? Maybe they try to shake Old Man awake, only to realize Old Man “couldn’t get up in the morning…” What then? Call for help? Is there anyone else in the house? Dial 911? How fast will they get here? And it is raining, it is pouring…the road is probably washed out!

Maybe-heaven forbid!-maybe Old Man leaves alone. Kids all grown up and moved to the big city to earn the big bucks…call every other month…send the grand-kids over for the summer holidays to save themselves the ever-increasing cost of summer-camp…visit for a couple of days during Christmas-“The Holidays” you have to be politically correct…talk of moving into a home, this old house is too big and lonely for you to be in dad, at your age…

Maybe there is a dog that has been whining in confusion and sorrow since it had that bump last night, and is now beside himself, raising a din fit to wake the dead…but Old Man couldn’t get up in the morning…

Maybe there’s a cat that only looked up briefly when Old Man went bump in the night, then yawned, stretched and went back to licking herself prettily…

Maybe after two days, little Tommy will toss the daily paper to the front step and frown in mild confusion as he rides away, because yesterday’s paper is a sodden pile beside yesterday’s untouched milk…maybe Mr Milkman will be more than a little concerned and will ask the local authority to maybe check up on Ole’ Ted up at the corner because he didn’t touch his milk yesterday, it is not like him to leave the milk out on the doorstep for a whole day, and the paper too, you know how he loves his paper, that Ole’ Ted does…

Maybe…

…where are my pills…?