The inside of my mothers uterus must have been highly tense and exciting
The inside of my mothers uterus must have been highly tense and exciting.
My birth…the end of my gestation period in fact, was like a bad made for TV movie. Touching, if you like that sort of thing I suppose.
I never have been one to sit still and let the world pass bye. Nine months of floating in a foetal position clearly hadn't appealed to me…I was likely attempting gymnastics, or an early escape. And to cut a long story short I got rather tangled up (of course I don't remember all this…it's just what I am told).
Had it been just me in there I would have been royally fucked, so it was lucky that my mothers over zealous ovaries had landed her with two buns in the oven. The fact that my brother's arm was tucked securely between my neck and the umbilical chord, his elbow crooked, his hand resting against my chin, made us taking the usual exit a rather unfeasible prospect for us however, so we endured a Mcduff esque entrance in to the world.
The next chapter in the book of our wacky medical adventures is even weirder. Being twins and being impatient we were a few weeks early…a bit small and blue and fragile, so we were incubated and poked and prodded…subjected to scrupulous testing and checking and retesting, much to our mothers chagrin….
She isn't one for hospitals.
She had planned for us to be born in the medical wing of the Torchwood institute; the Scientific research company run by our grandfather, but there had been trouble at the institue. Some kind of terrorist attack, or an accident with a particle accelerator. It's never been properly explained to us, but the utilisation of torchwoods resources was not an option at the time of our birth because…well…torchwood's resources were on the charred side.
We were two days old when the doctors began whispering around our Perspex boxes. We were moved to isolation and eventually the maverick doctor who had snapped up our case upon hearing about the developments cracked open our little chests for 'investigative surgery'.
Mother was apparently doped up to the eyeballs at this point. There was no way maverick doctor was going to have anyone object to his poking around inside us. We could make his career.
To cut a long story short, a week after we emerged in to this world of scalpels and medical one upmanship, maverick doctor (who apparently also had a maverick bedside manner, and so was discouraged from interacting with patients whilst they were still conscious) sent a nurse to change Miss Tyler's drip to one with less tranquiliser and more saline, and a few hours later to enlighten her as to maverick doctor's discoveries.
She had, she was afraid, some rather shocking news.
There was a problem with her children's hearts.
They had more than their fair share.
Mrs Tyler, clearly not one for hysterics, simply looked at the nurse for a few moments before replying
"I wouldn't view that as a problem, nurse. Surely two hearts are better than one?".
This exchange has become family legend, and the telling of the final line always results in raws of sherry soaked laughter around the table at Christmas, because clearly still delirious from her impromptu sedation Miss Tyler proceeded to lose focus slightly, frown at the nurse and mutter
"besides….what else could I have expected?".
Before dropping back in to sleep.