“What you mean the break, well”…..it all started almost 30 years ago when I was young and innocent, I started working on a ship, and the first night, right after I'd gone to my bunk, the captains stunning daughter came into my cabin. She asked me if there was anything I wanted.
I said, "No, everything is fine." "Are you sure?" she asked. "I'm sure," I said. "Isn't there anything I can do for you?" she wanted to know. "Nope, absolutely nothing," I replied.
And I know what you are thinking, what the hell has this rubbish to do with my broken leg.....Well last Friday I was driving along when it suddenly dawned on me what she was talking about and I fell off my motorbike.
(Jan 24th 8pm on a dark and icy country lane in Scotland)
However as the bike went over I managed with a little dexterity to place my lower leg in exactly the right place to protect the bike from getting badly damaged. I saved my self hundreds of pounds in repairs I reckon. I lay there in the dark on a country lane looking at a cloudless starry sky and various thoughts like, Gosh it’s quiet here. Gosh that stung, I wonder if the two laptops in my back pack survived (They Did) “I know !” I thought, I'll phone Babs and get her to bring Andrew my son up to move the bike off the road. I’ll just crawl with my broken leg to the other side of the road to make sure I don’t get hit by a car first. (which I did (crawl that is, not get hit)) After 15 minutes of agonised bone grinding crawling on my back, I thought bugger I've just crawled 100yards along the road instead of across so I corrected my trajectory accordingly and reached a handy ditch.
Anyway, I organised Babs forgetting to mention the fact that I was lying on the road to her. I gave her a bit of time to get on her way and then thought will I phone my mates first and tell em I’ll be late or will I phone an ambulance. Common sense of course prevailed and I phoned my mates. Then the ambulance guys. At this point things got hazy. I remember a nice young couple asking if I was ok. I told em I was and we had a chat about this and that for a few minutes. Then a pile of cars drove past rubber necking at something, I couldn't see what it was from where I was lying but it must have been good. Then two ambulances arrived with a bunch of sadists who picked me up and put me on a stretcher and then after playing with my foot like a gorilla plays with a dead puppy, they agreed to give me some morphine. They then played hunt the vein for 20 minutes. This is a game I like to play with medical people, I invariably win. (apart from with Mrs Pinsticker the queen of needlecraft at ARI. No silly elastic cuffs for her, straight in, never misses, I worship her) Babs turned up with Andrew but I had screwed up, I had forgotten to ask her to bring a bar of chocolate. Sterling effort Babs in getting the big Honda into the horsebox. Sorry bout your knuckles, yes it is a bit heavy.
I remember a red babies changing mat being wrapped round my foot to immobilise it quite successfully. They do something and the whole thing goes stiff as a board. Very effective then I made fun of the new Paramedic guy for a bit till he stuck another 5ml of morphine in to shut me up then he drove the long way round to make sure he got all the country lane bumps whilst I hung on to the gas and air mask with all my might.
Corridors, flickering fluorescents, Stretcher with wonky wheel, you’ve seen the film.
X ray first. Two lovely witches who proceeded to remove the red babies changing mat. Apparently I can reach a high C with Vibrato and made a 20 year old woman waiting outside with a broken arm wet herself. Once again they were doing that dead puppy impersonation which makes the bone grinding, tear bringing, scream making feeling. Decided I was not going to send them a thank you card. They finally got a couple of shots they liked and shoved me back into a corridor.
I didn't get the op or any form of stabilisation till 27 hours after the accident so spent most of that following day screaming for more morphine and trying very hard not to move so I didn't have to listen to that funny grinding sound (That one that you kinda feel more than hear and stretches morphine’s efficacy to it's limits). . (Isn't morphine wonderful)
Rule 23: always be nice to nurses no matter how annoying they are cos they control the morphine supply. Those angels can have you crying and begging like a baby or lying back with biggest smile on your face since Gladys Arkwrights 21rst Birthday party (Another story, different Blog)
On that first day on the ward whilst playing statues (Ie trying very hard not to even blink), my wife and youngest son Satan arrived. As he walked in of course he tripped and sent the box of chocky biscuits he was carring in a slow motion arc high into the air. It flew with uncanny accuracy up and up and then down and down straight onto my broken leg. (And people still ask why we call him Satan) He then gave me one of those"why are you screaming" looks before wandering off to hunt for sweeties amongst the various slumbering patients.
I went down to surgery about midnight on Friday. A bit nervous you know pins and screws etc to be put in my leg, not quite sure what to expect. The anaesthetist says " I'm just going to inject this and you will be asleep very quickl..........
Anyway I woke up in recovery fighting aliens who were trying to smother me so they could do experiments. I fought bravely for about 15 minutes till the aliens finally explained it was an oxygen mask and I would feel much better if I just let them put the damn thing on me. I saw the funny side of it but I don’t think Theatre nurses are built for humour, Probably something to do with working with patients. I also had a nice new cast on which cheered me up no end, I thought they might forget again. They also gave me a pretty steel nail down the centre of the tibula and some great pins and screws to hold said bone together. The broken ends of the fib were left to find their own solution. I love my stitches, this will be my best scar to date.
Spent another 2 days doped up to the eyeballs with my own personal morphine pump. Great things these. This particular model was different from the last one I used (appendicitis 2006) Probably as well cos I really abused that puppy. This one consists of a large syringe with 100ml of Morphine in it locked by a plastic cover with a key held only by staff nurse Himmler. The hand held switch goes round your wrist and lets you pump 1ml of morphine in every FIVE minutes. I have never watched a clock so carefully in my life. If the makers of the Graseby 3300 are reading this, for gods sake put a beeper in the damn thing so it beeps when the count down ends. It took me three hours to hack the pump and set it for a more prescriptive pain relief setting ie minimum lockout. (In case you are wondering, yes the hospital provides internet access to every bed and yes the manual is on the internet along with photographic instructions on how to get the cover off without a key (Honest!.check it out yourself.)). Anyway, by the second day, my stalwart friends had delivered of me a ready supply of Lucozade/Vodca and Gin/Tonic which can now be purchased in handy tins and works well with the medication unlike the Lucozade/vodca version which although effective tastes foul.
Day 4, off the morphine apart from the odd little tablet begged from a way overworked nurse. My heart goes out to them, crap job and you have to deal with the general public.....UUUUUrgh
nb I obviously include myself in this group, I am probably a nightmare patient. Played a game of seeing how many cardboard peepots I could fill before S.N. Himmler noticed and made someone empty them. (8 in case you are wondering, it looked like a cardboard fairy ring under my bed. Spent the day trying to Hack the internet consoles mounted above the beds. Fun but much harder than the Graseby 3300. Still managed to pack mine full of soft porn and downloaded MP3’s and get a months free access. A gift for the next occupant, just hope it's not an old age pensioner, the screen saver will give him a heart attack. Turns out it’s a linux box. (nother story, different Blog) S.N. Himmler decided to bribe me with more morphine to let trainee nurses stick needles in me. Half an hour of fun for the girls and an arm like a southside junkie by the end. One girl invented a new technique which I have dubbed “drilling for blood”
Am in a ward with 5 other lost souls. There is a fast turnround this being a modern british NHS conveyor belt. Guy on the left shot his foot with a nail gun. The six inch nail embedded itself with barbs and had to be pulled all the way through like an indians arrow. Dead cool.
The polish guy had his foot half remove by an irate cow who forgot to clean his hooves. Totally uncool and probably the most pain in any of us.
Grumpy car crash boy with a broken arm was a bit of an arse but at least kept quiet when he wasn't throwing up. Yeah man 2 vodcas in the pub before you drive home can do that to you.....That and the ton of steroids you obviously consume every day you twat.
The old bloke opposite was cool but very uncomfortable, Broken thigh bone and new hip and never grumbled once. (unlike me)
But altsheimer guy front left was the best. He spent his time trying to escape the bed, pulling out his catheter and swinging it round his head with pee flying everywhere
(I swear this is true) and screaming out during the night at regular intervals. Getting him out of bed in the morning took 4 of them and involved a lot of screaming, not all his I might add. He managed to upturn his wheely table a few times sending Glass, juice and freshfruit flying everywhere.To sum it up, I dont know what they pay these lassies but it could never be enough.
Day 5, Crap night due to miserable meds. Finished two paperbacks (both rubbish) Breakfast unedible. Lunch even worse. Got my last morphine tablet before trundling down to X ray. Off with the surgeons cast on with a nice new one done by the cool cast guy.(another old biker) (
Who it turns out went to school with my wife. Is there anyone this woman does not know.) then 4 hours later tossed out on the street with two crutches and a bag of Paracetemols and some dihydrocodeine.
A word of warning. As much as I love the pain relief obtained from strong opiates, they mess with your head. Really mess with it. Once again back home from the hostpital and my mood drops through the floor. Sitting watching some crap soap on TV when some characters dog dies of old age and I burst into uncontrollable sobbing. "Hamishes dugs deid" My wife directs one of those looks at me. It is a measure of contempt, a dash of pity in a tall glass topped up with "what on earth did I see in you." It is a particularily good look and resonates well with my current misery. I still cant believe Hamishes dug died, I'm welling up as I think about it.
The last week has been a series of small sleeps with occasional excitement as the wretched leg decides to spasm throwing me into paroxysms of pain interspersed by well chosen curses in a variety of languages. The
Hypnic Jerks (Honest, thats what they are called, google it if you dont believe me) as you drift off to sleep are well known and assumed painless. Yeah…with a broken leg they hurt like buggery. First time it happened, I thought Babs was playing soldiers and had just pulled my pin out with her teeth and was getting ready to throw my leg over the wall. My loving “nurse” next to me roused by my screams and heartfelt sobs turns over and in a concerned voice says "will you take another paracetemol, DEAR....I'm trying to sleep...."Oh deep joy.
It's now day 11, My kids are driving me nuts. Satan keeps coming in and saying "look dad, two working legs, yeeha" and then running out again. The pain is miserable ameliorated by regular top ups with scotch and water of an evening. I love my wife but she has the nursing instincts of a Tazmanian devil. (not the cute cartoon one, the real one with psychotic tendencies)I have read 8 paperbacks, all rubbish except "The wake of the Jomon" by Jon Turk who is the kinda guy that makes me look normal. (I like people like that)
I have good internet access thank god and too much time so god only knows what will get written next. I think a snot-a-gram to my MP is called for. Perhaps a eulogy on the difficulty in obtaining disabled stickers for my bike. And why sidecars would be so much more useful to temporary cripples like my self than the gargantuan zimmer frame they actually offered and that I politely left behind in the hospital. I am changing to Gin tonics tonight to see if that helps the jerk. If nothing else, it gives the jerk something to write about tomorrow.
February 5th
Got this bloody leg is still sore, I can still feel grinding. The surgeon was kind enough to put an arrow on my thigh in felt tip to make sure I know which leg is broken. I have to keep checking. The hypnic jerks have not been cured by the Gin Tonic. Despite trying overdose levels that would knock an elephant down. However I found some old diazipam from my sore back period which sorted it out a treat. (1 just before bed in case you are wondering) I dont like taking these puppies as they can seriously mess with your head but I guess the small amount I am having is ok.
Is it just our life or is everyones life really really complicated and getting more so. I field calls from clients who think I am in china working so I have to make Chinese background noises. And pretend the phone has a delay….
My sons TV is broken, a well known fault but luckily he has insurance. Unluckily we already used the insurance to cover the repairs to our own identical TV which had the same fault. After the last time, we did not swap the backs of the TV's back ie the serial numbers back so this morning I spend an hour on the floor swapping the backs of two 48” plasma TV’s. with my foot raised up on two cushions. 2pm, the repair guy comes and pulls out the offending power supply, he looks at the original power supply that he is supposed to have repaired three months ago but has never actually seen before. Gosh he says, you cant tell I repaired this I must be really good. I am not sure if this is deadpan humour or if he actually thinks his surface mount soldering skills are that good. He must be Glaswegian. Only they can do such quality sarcasm.
I should be working on bids and tenders but instead am playing with the website
http://www.mybrokenleg.com/. Nice people all supporting each other and many making me feel very humble. I honestly thought that my breaks were at least a straight flush and then I read some of that site and find I'm only holding a pair of deuces. Some of the one liners are classic. "I was standing in my bedroom when my leg fell off" Thank you Harley girl, you made my day and I mean that in a good way.
Out of curiosity I did some more searching. Apparently someone took out
http://www.mybrokenarm.com/ but frankly most of them just get on with life so it never took off, it's the broken leg crowd who have too much time on their hands. I also found a site called
http://www.mybrokenneck.com/ It really exists but whoever owns it has been too poorly to actually build the site. It must take forever to creat a web site blowing down a straw.
Anyway In a nutshell, I am a lucky man, I know it, you should believe it and the only cure is laughter. I am particularily lucky for having a great wife and wonderful family and freinds who know when to break rules. Basically my support system is the best and though I may not mention it much here, dont ever think I'm not appreciative. I do think my excuse for "What happened to your leg......? "is lame though. I am currently trying out a few new ones, how does, "I fell off the stage playing air guitar at a Led Zepplin concert" sound, No? OK try this one, I was running with the bulls at pampalona when I was knocked to the ground and trampled by a crowd of Spanish women" mmmmm still need some work on this
ed to my couch and has decided to join me. To achieve this she decided to throw herself bodily off her front step (A dizzying height of 2") landing on her middle finger and wrist providing a clean break from both her bones and her work in one fell swoop. Actually less of a swoop, more of a plummet. She now resides with us where we swap broken bone stories whilst my wifes eyes slowly roll up to inspect the pain in her frontal lobes. I consider her actions to be obscenely selfish. Who the hell does she think she is stealing my thunder. I would push her off her pew if I didn't think she would break something else just to annoy me. This is Nancy demonstrating alternative uses for a sling, Unluckily she forgot she had it on and went shopping like this. Nice man brought her home. 
ed to my couch and has decided to join me. To achieve this she decided to throw herself bodily off her front step (A dizzying height of 2") landing on her middle finger and wrist providing a clean break from both her bones and her work in one fell swoop. Actually less of a swoop, more of a plummet. She now resides with us where we swap broken bone stories whilst my wifes eyes slowly roll up to inspect the pain in her frontal lobes. I consider her actions to be obscenely selfish. Who the hell does she think she is stealing my thunder. I would push her off her pew if I didn't think she would break something else just to annoy me. This is Nancy demonstrating alternative uses for a sling, Unluckily she forgot she had it on and went shopping like this. Nice man brought her home. 
