Thursday, December 18, 2008


My nephew Jack just came round and I really dug this picture from his sketchbook:



It wouldn't be Christmas without some sort of medical fiasco on my part. Two years ago, it was chicken pox; the year before that I found myself in A&E 10pm on New Year's Eve after a 2-week chest infection lead to me hallucinating and not in a good way. The kindly on-call doc diagnosed a urinary-tract infection that had gone undiagnosed by my GP and raided the medicine-box (all the chemists were closed) to give me a course of the correct antibiotics. Apparently, this illness is common in old ladies...

And so it was on monday that a routine visit to my doctor ended up in me being rushed into hospital. They had me in a rather fetching disposable gown, nil-by-mouth and a vent in my arm all ready to hook up to a drip and wheel me down to surgery, when the Registrar arrived for my third internal examination of the day (jeez- even cocaine mules passing thru JFK only merit one...), changed the diagnosis (not a cyst, apparently)...and, uh, sent me home. Everyone was very nice and professional and everything, and it makes me proud of the NHS, rather than the nagative crap you read in the Daily Mail...but, still, a man can only take so much rummaging around in his innards in one day. I think most of Yeovil must've passed thru my buttocks in that 6-hour period. Perhaps I should've put up an awning around them and fired-up the Bar-B-Q. "Roll up...roll up...roll up...! See the amazing freak of nature...!"

Anyway, here's a brief resume of my day (in pictures). I'm putting a bag of frozen peas between my buns and going back to bed.

Let the bum jokes commence!