This story will start amid the furore of time travel.
I shall take you back to the beginning of the Bariatric experience.
Straight to that first really rather crawling, grovelling email I sent to Oxford Bariatric Clinic.
I know, I know, you honestly thought I was a straight talker, a no-nonsense guy, a get straight to it, I don’t mince my words headstrong representative of the fuller figure.
Well I’m not I’m afraid, well when the stakes are this high…..
It was late February last year. I wrote direct to the Oxford Bariatric Service. I suppose I was fed up of having spend the previous 13 years getting larger and larger, trying to diet and exercise and each time, you guessed it, I ended up putting on more weight than I had started off with.
I wrote my email to the then Clerical Administrator Stephanie Little, who to my surprise, replied within a couple of days. And not just any reply, but a very kind and understanding email, outlining what my next steps would be and advising me of the criteria.
I was sent a referral form to complete and get signed off by my Doctor. In reality, this was a simple formality as we had already discussed the option of Bariatric Surgery. After both initially being reticent to consider such a drastic measure, it was becoming quite clear to us both that this was the most sensible option available.
You see, I had broken my leg earlier on in the previous year and thus my mobility had been drastically reduced. Don’t ask how I did it, suffice to say I checked my brain at the bottom of the ladder and proceeded ahead without it, resulting in a fall onto a straight leg. What’s that they say about falling down onto straight legs? Well I can attest to the validity of that statement. By cripes it hurt.
Of course I did the manly thing at first, I rolled around (no doubt whilst turning a very pale shade of puce) felt sick, tried to stand up, rolled around some more, then had a word with myself “Come on you big jessie there’s now’t wrong with you, just get up and walk” So this I did, or at least attempted. Because it was as I walked I knew something was very wrong. It was like walking with a rubber knee, the top half of my leg went one way, whilst the lower went the other.
My word did it smart!
So I took myself off for a lie down and along the way, I hopped via the medicine cabinet and picked up my painkillers that I take for my back pain, well they call them painkillers but to be honest they are more like sleeping draughts as if you overdo it in any way with them, it’s off to Bedfordshire in no time at all.
So I settled in with a bottle of water, a TV remote control and started popping pills. Within a couple of hours I had consumed my entire days ration and was wide awake and sweating from the pounding of blood pumping its way to help increase the swelling on the knee. Glad to see that my body was still working, even if I had attempted to break it earlier in the day.
So time passed, pain increased and Cameron (third person reference there) ended up in an Ambulance and on his way to the Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford. I say ended up in the Ambulance, this was more from my own efforts to get in it rather than the unfortunate Paramedics. You see, being the big guy I am, it was apparent that they were a bit undersized for my adonis like physique, plus living on the top floor of an apartment block with no lift, didn’t help matters. Still we all muddled together (I say muddled but in reality, I did a lot of hopping) until we reached the ground floor when it was every man for himself and being persuasive of nature, I managed to convince the Paramedics to let me ride in the wheelchair to the Ambulance. I mean, come on, the painkillers were doing nothing to take my mind off the pain so perhaps a little spin in the movable throne would do the trick. Not really but at least I smiled as the lift raised me and the chair to loading height of the ambulance, all done without a hard hat and hi vis, I dread to think what Health and Safety would say about that……
Still I was now on board and racing toward the hospital whilst following all the speed limits, not using the blues and twos and being subjected to a thoroughly relaxing journey with help from the administration of OriMorph.
Kills all know pain
Well sort of
It certainly slows things down….
Next Time: I arrive at the JR, eighteen months ago (I said there was time travel) and get to stay the night, even though I didn’t have my pyjamas OR my tooth-brush.