Move on
Loser
That’s what they want me to
do – it’s been 18 months since St. Peter’s Accident and Emergency sent me home
with a displaced, broken ankle. That’s where the break is out of alignment and
you are at risk of losing your leg if the blood supply gets cut off.
‘The Ankle Rankle’
I’ve got a problem
and it’s really starting to rankle.
You see, I hurt my leg
in fact, I broke my ankle.
The problem was my mistake
Oh what would that be?
The ambulance took my break
to St. Peter’s A and E.
Because instead of trying
to fix it there and then.
Some idiot, what was he was doing?
Sent me home again.
You can mess up a finger
You can bugger up a wrist
but only a consultant at St. Peter’s
would think a break was a twist.
When I went back a week
later, I needed two operations to put right their mistake. After the first one,
where they realigned the break, I didn’t sleep all night, I was trying to get
out of bed so that I could get to A and E to sort them out. Bad ankle, flappy
gown and crutches – no problem.
The nurses had a job on
their hands persuading me over the next 6 days that it would be better to make
a complaint and do things the ‘right’ way.
They meant well but they
were wrong.
If I’d managed to give the
consultant at A and E a good seeing too (while on crutches and a little light
headed post–op) that would have been that. And the police would have had quite a
job processing me and getting me to court.
But now, after 18 months of
doing things the right way, I haven’t got very far.
I’m more than a little
annoyed.
Here’s how I got rid of some
of the anger this week after I learnt that I’d exhausted the ‘right’ ways of
complaining.
Tuesday morning I decided
that it was time to take my Mum’s old carpet to the dump. This is the ragged
old room-sized rug that was bigger than me, rolled up. I know, I rolled the
thing up.
This is me (bad back, ankle,
knees and various other body parts gone), with a walking stick and another pair
of big bad boots.
I never said that any part
of this was going to be clever.
I got the rug into my tiny
car. It really was as big as I am, but cleverer.
I got to the dump.
These days, it’s a recycling
centre. Everything is segregated. In the case of old carpets, that means
dragging it up a steel staircase and then humping it over the lip of a giant
skip, which is the size of a bus. I wasn’t doing so well.
Did I mention that I’m not
well?
After quite a lot of huffing
and puffing, I was halfway up the stairs when a passing Good Samaritan came
forward to help.
We each took an end, me at
the front and him down below at the back.
I was fine, but at the top
of the stairs, my Good Samaritan began to look more than a little grey around
the gills and started to wobble. I saw fear in his eyes.
Increasingly, as he slowly
rocked backwards I was keeping him upright (just) by holding on to my end of
the roll. Not good, I only just managed to stop him breaking his neck.
Back at the top and
breathing again, we were standing on a platform at the top of the skip. We had
to get the carpet over the edge, which was at head height. I thought he was
going to have a heart attack – which is why I didn’t ask to take a photo for my
Blog.
On the way back home, I
stopped off and found a compilation CD of Gypsy and Balkan music for 99p.
All the traditional
influences were there; Eastern European folk music, India, Arabia and also a
distinct tang of Kletzmer too.
Plenty of Paprika in that Goulash.
An oppressed peoples having
some good times.
Nothing like having an edge
of danger in the mix.
It’s called life.
But this was also young
music from 2006 so there was plenty of echo and mixes and even some Ska too.
Of course, the outrageous
and innovative ‘Gogol Bordello’ were there as well with their ‘You Must Wear
Purple’….fabulous.
Anyway
I should explain that there’s
always a risk with my back and with a logic unique to me, I decided that as I’d
done my back in a fortnight before without any obvious sign of lasting neurological
damage, I might as well take advantage of this brief window of opportunity to take
it to the Max. I Maxed it.
Wednesday, Oh that hurts!
Hoover the house, change the
beds, do the washing, get the meals
In the afternoon as my back
hurt (funny that) but my legs were still OK, I took a walk from Staines to
Penton Lock and back to think things out.
Looking at the wreckage from
the floods all around and watching the wild water flowing through the weirs I
put it all in perspective.
I may put up the photos, but
they weren’t that exciting. If anyone is interested in fish conservation and
weirs – post a comment and I’ll do it on the Blog.
At least I remembered why I
started this Blog – I never had any faith that the system would work for me in
the first place.
Should I give up? Should I let
them get away with it?
Should I F@#K!
So lots more to do and not
so much time left to do it in.
Time to take the gloves off.
Time to name names.
To the max!
Neil Harris
(a don’t stop till you drop
production)
Home:
helpmesortoutstpeters.blogspot.com
Contact:
neilwithpromisestokeep@gmail.com
