I went to my GP yesterday, to have the elephant's leg bandage removed - (Hell, it really did look like one of these steamy beige smelly things in a kebab shop window...the bandage, not the southpaw), and the Nurse, who is an absolute sweetie, had an 'Assessment Supervisor' in attendance.
Now I'm all for getting value for NHS dosh, but my Doc is great (he is a Genesis fan too), and has several good colleagues including a rota of nurses, who bandage eldely idiots like me, and take readings from the others...!
The Nurse, (Sweetie), did everything right as usual, but had to keep asking Cruella De Ville, if the procedures were acceptable. Well, of course they were, but Nursie's been doing this sort of stuff for years, and knows her customers very well. (If I said intimately at this point, there could be a sharp intake of breath from certain readers, but I can safely say here that she is Mrs S's favourite Nurse too, so any surreptitious injections wouldn't get past the 200 yard exclusion zone would they...)!
After a clean up rather like Pirbright is going through now, (No 3 sandpaper, industrial disinfectant etc); I vaguely referred to the fact that I had work to do next week, and was immediately stamped on by C de V!
'Oooooh no! You can't drive for two weeks and your insurance would be invalid if you crashed; you've still got stitches man! You can't drive at all; DO YOU UNDERSTAND'!
So there we have it; Mrs S has offered to drive me to the station each day, (which will help Balls Brothers at lunchtime), and my business partner will be taking the reins on all the site visits that I have lined up! It's Chester next Thursday...
Bugger for some isn't it!
Have you tried phoning your insurance company. I did when I had my foot in plaster at Christmas and they said it was OK.
ReplyDeleteMay just do that Kev;
ReplyDeleteHow did you drive with a footfull of plaster?
Reminds me of 'Reach for the sky', when they go out in a little tourer, and one steers, the other boots the clutch and someone else changes gear, (for those who may not have seen the film, the three RAF blokes only had about 70% of their available limbs at the time...)!
I bet you got to Bristol in record time!
E-K do you do the Bristol run? I'll flag you down at Freshford....
ReplyDeleteBe careful Mr. E-K, that woman is a fierce dogger at every petrol station and lay-by at'ween Avebury and Exeter.
ReplyDeleteLook to your Bible for your clue.
ReplyDelete... King James version.
ReplyDeleteMr Modo! How unkind!
ReplyDeleteHave a big fat kiss Scroblene *X*
ReplyDeleteI hope that's Chester RACES, Scrobs.
ReplyDeleteWhy not just have a nice rest?
ReplyDeleteI was just thinking that!
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't mind being dogged by Lilith - she's a babe.
ReplyDeleteThe plastered foot was ok because it was below the knee. The new plaster is like fibreglass bandage and is much less unweildy than plaster of paris.
Yes, do the Bristol run, Lilith. From Exeter though. I'm in Bristol quite a lot. They keep changing the door codes to the mess room. I ask the platform staff what it is "Don't know - best ask the Asian guy working at the sweet kiosk." and these casual workers always know the code ! 'cause everyone tells 'em it. Wotsafuckinpoint ??? We may as well give Al Qaeda their own keys.
ReplyDeleteNow to the best of my knowledge, international terrorism is not financed by sweet shops E-K. However I do see your point... but just because the fellow selling you his wares is Asian it does not follow that he his hell bent on mass destruction... I believe some just are happy to live and let live even though they have suffered for centuries at the hands of us whiter than white Christians...
ReplyDeleteJust a thought.
Hey...Look you...
ReplyDeleteIt's my bloody hand which is in discussion, not some bloke in Temple Meads selling fags!
Kevin, I agree; Lucien, OK; Lilith, I'll see you there dear...of course...
Now, what about a bit of sympathy for the wounded digits eh? Yeah, TWO were done not one! The little finger has a junior Motorway map as well, and there are twentyfour stitches!
Tonight, I am on Merlot and Peanuts. I have helped Tuscan Tony with a huge bruschetta from the toms in our greenhouse and a gallon of olive oil, and tomorrow, I'm defragging the laptop.
Mrs S is watching Relocation Relocation Relocation in disgust, and frankly, I can't blame her, I would...
The things you have to do these days to get noticed; I ask you...
Peeeerrrrp...
Poor Scroblene. How is your poor, poor hand? Hope you soon feel better. Is that enough sympathy?
ReplyDeleteMy husband currently is having to have some quite nasty injections given by one of the nursies at the surgery. The first couple were fine, not too uncomfortable and he went off quite happily for the third. Oops - change of nursie - made his eyes water a bit. 'Make sure you ask for me when you make your next appointment' she said as he left. 'Yeah, right' was the (silent) reply.
Would you like your brow mopped?
And just how did your post about your medical matters turn into an Al Qaeda discussion?
ReplyDeleteCan't give you a spoonful of sugar but visit my latest post to see what I have got for you!
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ReplyDeleteThe last time I was in hospital was because of a very large blackthorn spine embedded in my ring finger... my GP had told me that it would have to be cut out. Understandably I was not too chipper about the whole thing.
ReplyDeleteWhen I arrived at casualty, I was it must be said, verging on hysteria. I explained my problem to a nurse... very sympathetic. When she toddled off to fetch the doctor, I realized that in my lengthy account of the accident and my GP's advice, I had continually referred to casualty as 'Holby City.'
When the nurse returned she told me that the doctor might well have to cut my finger open to remove the thorn; in my desperation to avoid this terror I asked whether or not the hospital might not own some type of 'sucking machine'? I imagined that they might for such emergencies as the removal of thorns from extremities.
The nurse, I think, began to conclude that I might need to calm down, and evidently thought that a cup of tea at the tea shop might be expedient. She asked me if I would like to go for a drink... I however misinterpreted her solicitation, and replied that I would like to, but that I was a married man.
The thorn came out with a squeeze.
I have at no little expense set up a confessional booth over at 'Babel.'
ReplyDeleteIf anyone would care to confess their sins, then I am prepared to hear them and grant absolution.
Modo
ReplyDeleteAnd last time I heard old white ladies weren't blowing up aeroplanes - but that doesn't stop our airports being paralysed because security keep stopping and searching them.
Doubtless the kiosk workers are new arrivals; I deduce this because their English is very basic.
I really don't think I'm being unreasonable and please allow me my humour in this time of marginalised majorities.
Just a thought ;-)
Our airports are paralyzed because the administration keep shoving in new stores to sell crap to dummies; 25% less checks-ins at Heathrow because we all want more shops! Fuck all to do with terrorism.
ReplyDeleteAnd when it comes do basic English you can't beat the fucking English... pardon my French.
But hey! Let's blame somebody! It's worked before.
That's it I'm off....... Fucking white old ladies..... fucking, fucking... they're worse than Ghengis Khan!
Ha ha.
ReplyDeleteThat was funny Mr Modo.
:-)
Good point Lucien,
ReplyDeleteBAA are overplaying the bit about being a caring organisation!
Soon to be bust up?
OOOh Lucien is hot when he's cross!
ReplyDelete