A CD reissue of Ivory Cutlery's 'Privilege' arrives in the post. I think the Oldie wants my honest opinion. I know I'll love it.
The op went well, thanks to the expertise of the consultants at the James Paget in Gorleston. Thankfully, they waited until afterwards to explain just how serious my injury had been. My elbow joint had been crushed by the impact, turning it from a nice big sphere to a bag of much smaller marbles. The humerus had snapped like a stick of celery, and the CT scan images were pretty grim. It's all now held together in a very close approximation of its original form with plates, screws, pins and wires. The rest is down to nature and some pretty hardcore physiotherapy, both of which take time. However, I am now pretty confident that I'll be restored to full health eventually. I'm a natural rebel, but I know when orders need to be heeded. Anyway, I won't mope about it here any longer. As you were...
4 comments:
Get Well Soon Louis - just think of all the fun you'll have with airport metal detectors when you get better...
"a bag of much smaller marbles." Cheers, didn't want these Coco Pops anyway.
It's easy to sentamentalise those that have to take care of you, but having spent the last week visiting my father in the ICU at Broomfield I know your thanks to the quacks are not just formal. Until he died on Thursday, and in spite of his age and the slim chances of recovery, he received an unbelievably high level of care, exhausting every possible technology until the end.
That little shit Dan Hannan better not bump into me in the next few weeks is all I'm saying. Nor you, I suspect. (You can still swing with the other one, can't you)?
Gws.
I'd hit him with the bad one. There's a lot of steel embedded in it. Although I wanted to be somewhere/anywhere else at all points during my stay, I can't fault the care I received at all. In the wards, in the theatres, in the plastering room (The plaster team at the Paget should be on TV - genuinely very funny people, as well as great at their jobs), I met nothing but good people, doing all they could, and I'd have been quite genuinely buggered without them.
Very very sorry to hear about your dad, Shaun.
"What happens to sharks when they're old?/They don't just fade away/What happens to sharks when they're old?/I'd rather not say."
Take care to refer to him as Mr Cutler throughout, not Ivor.
And get well soon.
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