I
didn't really sleep that well last night. Odd really, bearing in mind
how much red wine and Dissorano I'd poured down my gullet. Over
brekkie I had a look-see on-line. The nice people at LinkedIn
wondered if I wanted a job working as a senior
explosives scientist.
I wonder whatever possessed them to ask. I also had an email from
Amazon recommending a book I'd already bought from them. They do this
at least twice every week.
There
was also a mention on Facebook about some woman in America who was
(until
recently)
loudly and publically advocating the right of everyone to walk round
carrying guns. Her toddler had got hold of her gun and
shot her.
I can't help but feel
this story is only funny because it was her that got shot and not
some innocent bystander.
I popped the lead onto
"Furry Face TM" and we went for
our usual circuit of the park. As we came along the path from Bowens
Field to Viccie park there was a minor incident. The path is clearly
marked; one side for pedestrians, one side for bicycles. My dog
however doesn't understand the difference. The poor girls on their
bikes didn't actually run him over or crash into each other, but it
was close on both counts.
I suppose I can
understand why they then said such unladylike things about my dog.
Once
home I gave "Furry
Face TM"
his brekkie then I set off to the local hospital for the latest
chapter in the ongoing saga of the lump in my neck. We now think that
I have a blocked salivary gland (not
entirely unlike kidney stones)
and
so today I had a
sialogram.
A sialogram involves filling the affected gland with various X-ray
opaque dyes
and then taking X-ray photographs of the area to assess the state of
the blockage.
However there is a world
of difference between reading those dry words and finding yourself
flat on your back inside a scary X-ray machine with all manner of
catheters and needles being painfully poked into your neck via the
inside of your lower jaw.
Knowing
a thing or two about human anatomy (not
all of which I learned from nudey pictures)
I was rather conscious of the fact that there are quite a few crucial
things in the area where the needles were being poked. Windpipes and
jugular veins for example. However if the worst had happened those
who would have had to enact my will were under orders not to make any
complaints about the surgeon who might have inadvertently killed me.
In fact they were to assure the chap that I held him in no way
responsible.
There
was a press release about this very matter from the
Minister for Health
yesterday. He is trying to make the NHS more open and transparent
about reporting errors, incidents and mistakes. These things do
happen in the NHS. But in some ways the worst thing about these
mistakes are the way those making the mistakes are treated. Those at
fault are pilloried and crucified in the national media for an honest
mistake. In his press release the Minister says "we
need to unshackle ourselves from a quick-fix blame culture and
acknowledge that sometimes bad mistakes can be made by good people."
How right he is. Does anyone who works in a hospital ever go into the
place at the start of a shift wondering whose life they can stuff up
today?
The sooner these
ambulance-chasing-sue-for-medial-negligence types are closed
down the better our society will be.
The procedure took about
half an hour. At the end of it I got to see a rather impressive shot
of the inside of my neck. And in that shot I saw what looked very
much like stones inside what looked like a little bag. Presumably
that is what has been causing the pain.
The boss had told me to
take the rest of the day off as sick leave. There is no denying I
went to the hospital feeling that I'd pulled a fast one, and that
after this examination I was in for a good day's skive. However the
procedure hurt. Getting the catheters in had been painful. And the
injected dye had swollen up my lump to the size of a marble. Far from
having the skive I'd been planning, I went home and spent the day
sulking in front of the telly feeling rather sorry for myself.
I spent the day catching
up with stuff I'd recorded onto the SkyPlus box. "Extant"
was good. "Raised by Wolves" hilarious. "Moving
On" (a series of unconnected plays about people's
everyday lives) was good.I then dozed through some fan-made
Star Trek cartoon film. It would actually have been rather good
had the male characters not been voiced by women. Or the female
characters not been voiced by men. Or had the thing not been about
two hours too long (literally - I turned it off half way through)
"er indoors TM"
came home, boiled up a rather good bit of dinner, then shoved off to
the abode of "The Man with No Alias (patent pending)"
where a glass painting masterclass was in progress.
I was still sulking about
a sore neck so I sat on the sofa solving geo-puzzles whilst my dog
snored...
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