More than a year down the line, 17 months after an evening jaunt on the bike and the saga is over. After much discussion with that nice Mr Barker the metal worker at ARI, he agreed to take the screws out of my leg leaving the IM nail so I can still have fun at airport security.
Today the stitches were removed and finally the last threads of my story get pulled out. Harrah Harrah.
Getting the 4 screws out was a doddle, In early in the morning I arrived at the Woodbank hospital with a massive hangover due to some friends the night before. Those barbeques should come with a health warning or maybe it should be the friends. I slept most of the morning and by lunchtime was bored stiff, no water no food before the op. There were a couple of other detainees including a laddie from the Islands and we struck up an entertaining banter between us and the Nurses including Atilla the OCD matron. Ah so easy to wind up, like catching flies in a cesspool.
About 2pm a young laddie who looked fresh out of school comes past and painted yet another arrow on my leg. I assume that when they take the screws out there is a chance the leg will fall off and the arrow is there to show Mr B which end the foot goes on. I might be wrong, it may just be to mark me as an inmate. It looked kinda lonely there so when he disappeared leaving the pen on Atillas desk, I grabbed it and added a few more to give the leg a more post modernist look. I mean if the poor souls have to look at one of my limbs for an hour, it might as well look it’s best. To top it off, I added a nice dotted line round the knee with a cut here motif and a little picture of a saw.
They provided me with another of those wonderful sheets with draw strings they laughingly call a robe. And as usual my backside is hanging out the thing. Good job I lost my modesty ages ago in the Chinese toilet incident so when they came to get me I was doing handstands to the cheers of all around and the disgust of Atilla.
Once again we go on the long trek to surgery, I offered to help push the bed but they seemed determined to do it themselves.
Once we reach the bowels of the hostpital, which it must be said is an amazing vicorian building still ringing with the cries of the patients from a hundred years ago I get into a heated discussion regards the number of screws to be removed. I win they are all to be removed. Mr B loves the artwork, the nurses however have left their sense of humour at home again. Maybe we should pay them more to bring it into work with them.
Isn’t modern anaesthetic wonderful. No more of this count down from 10 business, the needle goes in, you see it happen and instant sleep. It’s like listening to a politician.
I wake up an hour later embarrassed to find myself wearing a complete Gimp outfit and a gas mask being held down and laughed at by 6 nurses wearing sexy underwear only to realise that my dreams are a bit weirder than perhaps they should be.
Today the stitches were removed and finally the last threads of my story get pulled out. Harrah Harrah.
Getting the 4 screws out was a doddle, In early in the morning I arrived at the Woodbank hospital with a massive hangover due to some friends the night before. Those barbeques should come with a health warning or maybe it should be the friends. I slept most of the morning and by lunchtime was bored stiff, no water no food before the op. There were a couple of other detainees including a laddie from the Islands and we struck up an entertaining banter between us and the Nurses including Atilla the OCD matron. Ah so easy to wind up, like catching flies in a cesspool.
About 2pm a young laddie who looked fresh out of school comes past and painted yet another arrow on my leg. I assume that when they take the screws out there is a chance the leg will fall off and the arrow is there to show Mr B which end the foot goes on. I might be wrong, it may just be to mark me as an inmate. It looked kinda lonely there so when he disappeared leaving the pen on Atillas desk, I grabbed it and added a few more to give the leg a more post modernist look. I mean if the poor souls have to look at one of my limbs for an hour, it might as well look it’s best. To top it off, I added a nice dotted line round the knee with a cut here motif and a little picture of a saw.
They provided me with another of those wonderful sheets with draw strings they laughingly call a robe. And as usual my backside is hanging out the thing. Good job I lost my modesty ages ago in the Chinese toilet incident so when they came to get me I was doing handstands to the cheers of all around and the disgust of Atilla.
Once again we go on the long trek to surgery, I offered to help push the bed but they seemed determined to do it themselves.
Once we reach the bowels of the hostpital, which it must be said is an amazing vicorian building still ringing with the cries of the patients from a hundred years ago I get into a heated discussion regards the number of screws to be removed. I win they are all to be removed. Mr B loves the artwork, the nurses however have left their sense of humour at home again. Maybe we should pay them more to bring it into work with them.
Isn’t modern anaesthetic wonderful. No more of this count down from 10 business, the needle goes in, you see it happen and instant sleep. It’s like listening to a politician.
I wake up an hour later embarrassed to find myself wearing a complete Gimp outfit and a gas mask being held down and laughed at by 6 nurses wearing sexy underwear only to realise that my dreams are a bit weirder than perhaps they should be.
And then……. The cup of tea….OH MY GOD is that not the best cuppa tea you ever get. Wonderful. Thank you Mr Barker, surgeon of Aberdeen, If they gave points for surgeons like they do for ebay sellers, you and your team would have 5 gold ones. Taking the screws out has made a huge difference, suddenly I can run again. Obviously I don’t, but the point is I could if I wanted to which makes me happy.
So that’s the story. I clicked on to the http://www.mybrokenleg.com/ site that night just to say goodbye for ever. After all that time I didn’t expect to talk to anyone I knew but there were a couple of die hards still left there hobbling away on the keyboards but the place has become alien to me now. When you are sitting at 3 in the morning alone and in pain and scared and angry and lost, it’s a good place to be as there is always someone there even deeper in the shit than you are. Though I may occasionally tell a mocking story of our NHS system, at least it’s open 24/7 to deal with idiots like me when I need it. My heart goes out to our transatlantic cousins with no insurance and an ever deepening chasm of pain and fear opening up beneath them when they fall ill.
So have I lived a quiet and sensible life in the intervening year since my last post?
So that’s the story. I clicked on to the http://www.mybrokenleg.com/ site that night just to say goodbye for ever. After all that time I didn’t expect to talk to anyone I knew but there were a couple of die hards still left there hobbling away on the keyboards but the place has become alien to me now. When you are sitting at 3 in the morning alone and in pain and scared and angry and lost, it’s a good place to be as there is always someone there even deeper in the shit than you are. Though I may occasionally tell a mocking story of our NHS system, at least it’s open 24/7 to deal with idiots like me when I need it. My heart goes out to our transatlantic cousins with no insurance and an ever deepening chasm of pain and fear opening up beneath them when they fall ill.
So have I lived a quiet and sensible life in the intervening year since my last post?
….Well yes and no….
It has not been the usual whirl of mad escapades in strange lands although a couple of trips do stand out. A few months ago Shane calls me out of the blue. Haven’t seen the madman for years but his ROV is knackered and he wants a solution fast. Not a chance says I up to my eyeballs in Alligators, too busy….It’s near the Artic circle he says, Saskatchewan in Canada….still too busy says I, but keep talking…It’s down a flooded Uranium Mine….OK now I’m interested but playing hard to get….It’s minus 50 degrees today he says, Book my flight says I and there I am in a bar in Saskatoon in the middle of nowhere on my own so I wander up to a bunch of locals having a beer. They are first nation Indians, chiefs mostly in town for a pow wow and the beers flow and jokes get told and Wally from the Cree tribe leans over and says “I’ve got a good one”
It has not been the usual whirl of mad escapades in strange lands although a couple of trips do stand out. A few months ago Shane calls me out of the blue. Haven’t seen the madman for years but his ROV is knackered and he wants a solution fast. Not a chance says I up to my eyeballs in Alligators, too busy….It’s near the Artic circle he says, Saskatchewan in Canada….still too busy says I, but keep talking…It’s down a flooded Uranium Mine….OK now I’m interested but playing hard to get….It’s minus 50 degrees today he says, Book my flight says I and there I am in a bar in Saskatoon in the middle of nowhere on my own so I wander up to a bunch of locals having a beer. They are first nation Indians, chiefs mostly in town for a pow wow and the beers flow and jokes get told and Wally from the Cree tribe leans over and says “I’ve got a good one”
Now I did notice that all these local guys seem to have Scottish names, they like a dram or two and are overly keen to burst into song at the drop of a hat. I’m afraid my Scottish ancestors left more than an impression on the locals, they left half their genes here too.
Anyway “why do Indians like playing golf” says Wally. All the other chiefs are shaking their heads thinking Oh God no, not the Indian golf joke please. "Ha" says Wally "cos it’s the only white thing we can hit with a stick and get away with it"
and the other chiefs glance away watching the last vestiges of decades long battles for political correctness fly out the window. I laughed so hard I nearly spilt my beer. I am so glad I get to meet people like Wally, he reminds me of what it means to be human and alive and that the fight for fairness still battles on even in the far flung wilds of the world. I have kept his card and if I ever go back I am looking him up cos I bet he’s got a few more good stories to tell. And Shane lied his head off, it only got to –40 degrees at cigar lake when I was there.
And last month I found myself in Zhang Jian in southern china. I think Dante Alighieri must have visited here, he clearly used it as the template for the 6th ring. Anyway, there I am late one night a few hundred miles out in the raging south china seas on the back deck of a little anchor handler. I have two Chinese minders behind me and I am trying to pick up the wifi signal from my latest invention, the control system for a 400 ton artificial seabed (AS) floating a hundred meters away, The seas are breaking over the deck the night is evil, it’s dark and cold and the gods are against us. I have my remote control above my head, no signal, but it’s
there, I know it is, so I start to shout, the wind whips the hair from my salt crazed face as I scream and curse and demand satisfaction from the gods, the boat heaves up and down, and I will not be beaten, I will force a connection by shear will power and anger and stubbornness as my curses threaten fate, the gods and anyone within a thirty mile radius who dare stand in my way. (in full blown Ahab mode with my great white whale before me) I Win....I get my connection, the beast comes to life, the valves open, thousands of cubic feet of air coming screaming through the pipes rending the dark night air with it’s tortured cry and the beast sinks slowly but surely beneath the waves.
I stand watching it disappear below the surface, moving rapidly from fury to smug mode. I am the master, don’t fuck with me……and as I turn with a big grin on my mug, there are my two minders sheltering from the waves hanging on for dear life to ropes and looking at me with the sure and certain knowledge that I am not only fonzha (crazy) but dangerously so. For the rest of the trip, all self respecting Chinese people eat at different tables watching me from the corners of their eyes and generally gave me a wide berth.
I like to make an impression so people don’t forget me. Mmmm Might of gone a bit far this time.
There were other trips and other insanities in Vietnam and stateside but I may keep them for the book that will never be..though there is one that needs repeating. I was reminded of it by one of the MBL’rs
You may remember me mention a Chinese toilet earlier. Well I told this story to the MBL group a while back but these things get lost on the site so I went back and grabbed it and here it is. I am alone somewhere in China, My foot is like a balloon and sore and I am still wearing my dust covered plastic darth boot in a mosquito ridden hotel room. And so I sit and tell the story.
I'm Still in china and in fact stuck here for a few more days cos my Norwegian colleagues screwed up big time. I finally found out what i am doing here which is nice. I am playing doctor to a 440 ton bright yellow floating seabed. Dont ask, it's big, it goes underwater and has electronics... Hog heaven....I kid you not, what a day...... wearing my best Darth I ventured forth today through the mean streats of Shenzhen in a rickety taxi to be depositied keyside at a ferry. Only 20 minutes ride and you will be there they said.
I like to make an impression so people don’t forget me. Mmmm Might of gone a bit far this time.
There were other trips and other insanities in Vietnam and stateside but I may keep them for the book that will never be..though there is one that needs repeating. I was reminded of it by one of the MBL’rs
You may remember me mention a Chinese toilet earlier. Well I told this story to the MBL group a while back but these things get lost on the site so I went back and grabbed it and here it is. I am alone somewhere in China, My foot is like a balloon and sore and I am still wearing my dust covered plastic darth boot in a mosquito ridden hotel room. And so I sit and tell the story.
I'm Still in china and in fact stuck here for a few more days cos my Norwegian colleagues screwed up big time. I finally found out what i am doing here which is nice. I am playing doctor to a 440 ton bright yellow floating seabed. Dont ask, it's big, it goes underwater and has electronics... Hog heaven....I kid you not, what a day...... wearing my best Darth I ventured forth today through the mean streats of Shenzhen in a rickety taxi to be depositied keyside at a ferry. Only 20 minutes ride and you will be there they said.
The gangplank was entertaining, not for me, for the 100 other passengers looking at the freak in the funny boot hopping down the steel steps. They dont do darths over here. The Norwegian company man points to the work site like miles away and gives me a green helmet cos that means I am temporary on site. To the chinese however it means my wife is having an affair. Dont ask me why but apparently it's traditional somehow. Anyway as I hobble through this giant shipyard I find myself suffering the ribald humour of a thousand gentlemen who looked like they were going to fall off their bamboo scalfolding they were laughing so hard, the swines.....Now being an inveterate traveller, and being last night for a somewhat spicy meal at a resteraunt called the "little sheep". the chinese version of macadoddo...(Macdonalds to you)
Oh oh I gotta mention the menu here., We are talking hot pot, cook it yourself in hotternhell Hunan soup.
mongolian sheep fetus (Outer Mongolian, the good fetus)
cows first stomach
cows second stomach
Goats golden balls (dont ask, you know what it is..)
Donkey Penius (Their spelling not mine) (Didn't say where it came from so dont know if it was the good penius or not)
I am sure your getting the picture here.... Anyway where was I,,,,
mongolian sheep fetus (Outer Mongolian, the good fetus)
cows first stomach
cows second stomach
Goats golden balls (dont ask, you know what it is..)
Donkey Penius (Their spelling not mine) (Didn't say where it came from so dont know if it was the good penius or not)
I am sure your getting the picture here.... Anyway where was I,,,,
inveterate traveller. so I stole the toilet paper out the hotel cos i know this is going to have consequences. (I would point out that I actually loved the meal, it was wonderful, I am just glad I didn't ask to see the menu till after I had finished.
So there I am, at the edge of the quay discussing electronics and software and artificial seabeds when the rumbling starts. Says I where is your toilet?.... "Ahh WC" says mine Chinese host "hover there" says he pointing to a long low concrete block about half a mile away. (it probably wasn't but it looked it and this is my tale so shut it...) So there I go in my little red one piece overalls, my green hat, my Darth, my crutch doing the R2D2 hobble over the orange mud and abandoned bamboo and steel of the shipyard. When I get there there is a queue.
And I am causing some commotion not least because of the hat but also cos I am the first European to grace this establishment apparently and the Darth didn’t help.
I get to the front and look round the corner and lo there is a line of Chinese blokes all doing the "business", reading the paper and squatting on the one long trench down the middle of the room, their trousers are round their ankles and they look at me all thinking the same thing..(this is going to be velly good fun)......
It's my turn, is it the guy at the end of the trench so I can hide away at the back?.... no it's the guy in the middle who gets up and waves me in.
Now they all have two piece tunics and newspapers so they dont have to look at the next guys bum. I have a one piece overall and a roll of toilet paper.. the whole lot has to come off.....I hobble up parking my crutch at the side and start to strip. First my hotel key falls out the top pocket straight in the trench. It's staying there, I really don’t care.
The Chinese blokes are all now discussing the fact that I am the same colour all over (A pale Scottish white almost blue under the flourescent lighting) and why do these stupid gwailou’s wear one piece outfits. and why don’t I have a newspaper etc” whilst I, holding the shattered remains of my dignity and a little roll of toilet paper, point my somewhat substantial hairy white unkissable arse at the trench, my overalls round my ankles.
I have no choice.... that Mongolian hot pot will not stay dormant. I explode in a noisy and unctuous cavalcade making my neighbours fore and aft jump dramatically. The place is in uproar and the guy in front turns round looks at me, looks at it and says in broken english, colour good but too watery...........Thanks.. I really needed to know that...
It's one of those moments in time that will remain imprinted on my brain for ever. There could not have been a hole deep enough for me to hide in. It was the worst experiance of my life..(What a stupid thing to think, how wrong can you be)....
There is a noise behind me, I ignore it, it is nothing compared to my humiliation. The tank at the end of the trough flushes, the trough turns into a flash flood of poo, all the other guys stand and lift their trousers a bit moving their feet apart cos they know what’s coming, my overalls round my ankles act as a filter for the flood cos I am still squatting there in embarrassment. Much firmer poo’s than mine collect in the gusset like little birds eggs in a chocolate nest. It even seeps into my Darth. As I stare in utter astonishment at this horror, the last thing I see is my toilet roll sinking slowly into the mire.
Twenty men with their trousers round their ankles, laughing so hard they have to hold each other…”AND he’s wearing a green hat, no wonder his wife is having an affair”
Aigh It's been a day..........
10 minutes after this, I am wearing someone elses spare pair of two part grey overalls. They are small but clean. These guys are patting me on the back and checking out my cool, now washed Darth. I am one of the lads, I am welcome, I am in the team. Even the green hat is swapped for a white one. (It probably means I'm gay or something, who can tell)
I get back to the AS guys and they look at my new overalls and ask what happened. Once they stop laughing, Joseph the guy in charge says in broken English through heaving shoulders and withheld giggles,
“I Not mean those toilets, I mean ones in the office block.... European ones......”
Oh how we all laughed .aaaaaagh I just told the story to Babs on the phone. She laughed so hard she hung up on me. I might as well come on here and share with you guys too. I really hope tomorrow improves and please anyone coming to China. Avoid the little sheep restaurants like the plague..........
So thats it. This is my life. There are more stories, thirty years of the damn things...some worse some funnier and some that cannot be told like why is there a picture of a canadian truck further up the blog and how drunk was I when I drove it and how drunk was the owner when he asked me to. Maybe another blog one day when I get mighty bored. In the meantime thanks for reading and break a leg...
NO NO NO Dont do that!!!
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