So I left you on a real cliffhanger as I was just about to be delivered to the emergency trauma ward.
Well not really, it was all very tame and sedate, I told you that Orimorph was involved didn’t I……
So, dropped at the hospital with a book, a bottle of water and my glasses, eye glasses that is, I’m not that precious that I can’t drink direct from the bottle, obviously this doesn’t apply to the likes of Beer, Wine and Spirits…..!
So, I’m laying in the cubicle and taking it all in under the premise of reading my book. Listening to the various ailments of the local population and trying not to laugh. This became increasingly difficult when the local hoody hard man I had been forced to listen to mouthing off to anyone who will listen and possibly be impressed, just how hard he really is. That was until he started to cry after finding out that the hospital really did have to call his Mummy and Daddy and tell them he was attending their latest ‘I’ve hurt myself in a private place, whilst acting like a dick’ help group.
The other cubicles were frequented with the usual unfortunate souls like myself, although as the evening and treatment progressed and I was taken for X-rays, MRI’s etc yet always returned to my cubicle, whilst noting an increased lack of sobriety in my fellow inpatients.
Finally, the Doctor came and informed me “You’ve made a right mess of your knee, but I think we want to be completely sure just how much, so you are going for a CT Scan” Oh joy of joys I thought as I set about to continue my wait.
However, ten minutes later, I was pulled from my cubicle – beds with wheels really are great aren’t they? Wheeled into another room and put in a new cubicle. I was thanking the porter for his help and promising that next time I would try to help a bit more, when the nurse arrived, pulled a curtain round my bed and then before leaving, told me where the call button was. I was very glad he had as he left me there holding my concierge button, then turned out the lights.
I lay in the dark for a while and decided it might be helpful if I knew what was going on, so making full use of my newly acquired button, I endeavoured to find out. After a few minutes of intermittent button pushing, the very polite but obviously english vocabulary challenged nurse arrive and ask what he could do for me. I only really had one question as I’m sure anyone now reading this blog does. The question was simple ‘Have I been put to bed?” I asked “Yes” was the reply “Meaty plan gin warning” or something along those lines. In fact, to be honest, thinking back on it now he probably said “CT Scan in the morning” Kind of like the Two Ronnies “Tickle your arse with a feather” sketch but not as lewd…..
So that was me , he left and I was in darkness and apparently ready to go to bed. So I did, I slept, woke, slept, woke, asked for more drugs, slept again etc until the morning came and I was off for the Meaty Plan, sorry, CT Scan!
CT Scan complete, I was taken to see the man in the white coat who asked if I wanted an operation or would I prefer to leave it for a few weeks to see how it repaired itself as the swelling reduced. Now call me a big old softie but when given the choice between being cut, drilled, pinned and stitched OR simply being left alone to go home and see if time really does heal all wounds, I fall firmly on the side of best left alone…..
So a quick call was placed to the Mums Taxi Service and I was strapped up and sped away from my last known address. As we travelled, mother tried to get me to agree to move in to her house, but I figured that a simple if not long-winded attack on my stairs would be a better option than having old mother hen flapping round me for the foreseeable future………
I was soon returned home and so began my long road to recovery.
Continue clicking to get the final instalment and be brought slap bang up to date with the saga of the knee.