Monday, 9 September 2013
As you may recall the previous week I reported blocked ears and a felled missus. The next episode was equally dramatic.
I had my appointment with the surgery nurse last Tuesday, which was fine except on the Monday evening I went to the theatre. It was a production of Marlowe's "Edward II", a tale of a spoilt brat of a prince who was a spoilt king with a boyfriend. Circa 14th century publicly flaunting your love for a male underling, even if you were king, wasn't the most sensible of actions. But our Teddy wasn't sensible so for his pains he had a red hot poker stuffed up his arse; Oh, nasty.
Luckily, most of the play was extremely loud and told in actions so my wax encrusted ear drums were not too much of a handicap. But back to the surgery.
The nurse who saw me was a statuesque black Amazonian warrior. This immediately put me at my ease. If anyone could dislodge the mountains of wax in my ears she could. Except there were no mountains. She inserted, what I can only describe as a mini power hose into my ear. There was the wonderful whoosh of hot water irrigating my ear drum as the tiny particles of wax were expelled.First one ear - sounds entered in unhindered; then the next - my lug holes were opened and I heard myself shouting "My hearing is much better". That was it. My mood changed instantly. No longer was I a cloth eared OAP. Now I could listen to Dolly Parton in the car without sharing her beauteous tones with the rest of the M25.
However, at home matters had taken a turn for the worse. You'll recall that 'er in doors had had a great fall whilst out shopping. Her leg and knee was very badly bruised, but other than the bruising, and slight stiffness she was able to carry on as before. As the week progressed the bruising moved down her leg, and her movement stiffened. By last Tuesday, after my truimphant return from the surgery, she was in quite considerable pain. Her leg was immovable and swollen. Even she was worried.
Something had to be done. We spent quite some time trying to decide whether we should go to the doctor's or straight to A&E. I didn't know it at the time but the missus was convinced she'd a thrombosis in her leg, which explained why she wanted to go to A&E and had also packed bed cloths and washing material.
Last Wednesday morning saw me seriously worried and having checked her life insurance and our wills I drove off with my close to death wife to the nearest A&E. This was not good since it's reputation is so bad that the local undertakers from miles around are constantly circling the place. However, needs must.
As we approached the hospital entrance is was plain that something was up. A burly police man was standing in the middle of the entrance next to his car turning people away. No matter how ill you were you weren't getting past him. I saw a guy hang his sawn off left leg out of the car window. The officer was unmoved by the bloody stump. Apparently there had been a bomb alert.
We wondered whether we should try another A&E - about 10 miles away, but since our surgery was only a 10 minutes drive we headed for it. They were marvellous. One look at my wife's leg and the receptionist fainted and pressed the panic button. The missus was seen immediately.
I said "Surprise, surprise" to the Amazonian nurse warrior. "One minute you're flushing out my ears, the next you're sharpening the amputation saw". She was worried and went off to see one of the doctors.
Dr K is a delightful Shrilankan with a name which stretches from here to Columbo. He doesn't believe in the 10 minute per patient rule: that's why he's so busy, everyone wants to see him. Nevertheless he saw my wife as soon as he could.
First he told her off. She hadn't been to see him since 2001 - not being ill wasn't an excuse. Next he reassured her that she hadn't a thrombosis. His physic was much rest, some antibiotics to get rid of the bacteria that was causing the phlibitis and a surgical stocking or two.
We were different people as we drove away from the surgery. The next day the missus went for a blood test and she's to have a check up in a couple of weeks' time. She left a thank you card for Dr K.
She's well on the mend and I've cancelled my order for a concealed hearing aid.
It's all such a relief.