From Parachutes to Shootings to Polyps and Beyond......

I was late going in to work today because I had a doctors appointment, unusual, as I am one of THOSE MEN who rarely visits the doctor, even when I am dying.  No seriously I am, and I am not in the position of dying very often, or at least if I am, I tend to make miraculous recoveries and I am off and running, well not physically you understand, see Mr Fat and the Exerciser and you will understand why.  No, more a metaphorical running, running in ones mind, and getting back to the business of doing what I do best, which if truth be told is not a lot, no, don't laugh it's true.

Seriously I really do need to be dying or incapable of moving before I will visit the Doctor and in some cases the Doctor even needs to come to me.

1974 small problem with a parachute, it didn't open, but hey, these things happen all the time, I am sure I heard in the background chatter this morning about a young lady who also survived when her chutes did not open over the weekend, see, no big deal.  Anyway the other strange thing about my chute not opening all those years ago, was, as I was hurtling to my doom, I thought I had already died with a heart attack and gone to heaven, as I suddenly heard the skirl of the pipes, Scottish or pretend Scottishness or ancient ancestry of Scottishness, may explain that...... if not, another time.  Anyway that was one of those occasions when the doctor came to me, a sort of house call in a forest, who jumps out of a plane over a forest, not bloody me, so don't go there; wind, wind wind...  And do you know what the first thing this Doctor said to me, "Well mate, let's have a look at you, but I can tell already theirs f**k all wrong with your lungs." "What, the F**k" I thought, here I am lying in a heap, no feeling to most of my body, almost suffocating  engulfed in yards of nylon and this tit is suggesting I screamed like a baby, if only I could have moved, I would have smacked him one in the chops and it would have been him needing to self medicate! Any way long story short after being needled by SS, Sister Slattery one to many times I finally, after about 6 months tried to walk and attempted to get my hands round her throat, but realising that I was suddenly walking after all these months, I collapsed in a heap in the middle of the floor, only to have SS come back, nudge me with her toe and say, "See, you little Scots git, I told you you could walk, now get yourself back into bed and I'll call the doctor."

Between then and 1977, there were a couple of other minor incidents that required some attention and medication but nothing too much to worry about.

Then in 1977, as I recall I was in Central America, and again I have made reference in other blogs to how fit and healthy I was and that I enjoyed running and exercise, but on this particular day I discovered that it may be good enough for superman to out run a speeding train and to stop a bullet, well I can't testify to the former, but as to the latter, well, I wasn't superman and so I could not stop a speeding bullet, you do see where this is going don't you?  I am determined not to visit the doctor if I can help it, they MUST be brought to me first, and here we go again, some b****rd shot me.  Mind you I didn't even realise it had happened.  The adrenalin was going like a good un, and it was only when I dived into some cover to return  fire, that I brought my trusty old SelfLoadingRifle or SLR up into the firing position that I curiously noted that it wasn't there.  Now that was curious,  here I was out leading a patrol, come under fire take cover and I've lost my bloody rifle, that's going to go down well with the powers that be and the other chaps in the patrol, where the f**k was it?     It was then that I noticed a small red spot in the middle of the palm of my hand,  now word of warning here to anyone who might be in a similar situation to this.  If you see a small red spot in the middle of the palm of your hand, DO NOT TURN YOUR HAND OVER TO LOOK AT THE BACK OF YOUR HAND!

Because if you do, you may get the fright of your life.... As I turned my hand over there was no small spot there was a massive f****ng hole there was blood, there was bone, there was bits of skin and then there was of course my spittle as I started to dribble, but then there was the message!  What message, you ask?  Well have you ever been in a situation which is a bit dodgy and you eyes are trying to send a message to your brain to say sort of, " Hey, Brain, Eyes here, if you can see what I can see, should you not be sending a little all points bulletin out as a little warning to avoid this hazard or obstacle?" But, you know sometimes the brain and the eyes react quite differently to certain things, and where one sees something and sends a message back, the interpretation of the message is not quite what you expect,  although I am still not sure what one should expect.  Anyway, so my eyes see this gaping hole in the back of the hand and sends that image to my brain, and what does the brain do, well yes, it does send a message out, and I'll bet you can guess by now what that message was!  No, it wasn't, "Oh my, that looks interesting", or "Oh my word, now there is something that the eyes don't show me very often", No this message was kinda like, "What the F**k is going on here, is that part of this numptys body that I look after and I am supposed to keep safe, good f****ing god, that looks pretty painful, Oh, I know he isn't doing much but just staring at it, let's see if this gets a reaction" Now you do understand that this is all taking place in milliseconds.  I see it, the brain sees it, does a quick calculation and then sends out its all points bulletin to every fibre and nerve ending that was left or in bits down in the location of my right hand saying, "It's f***ing sore, shout, scream, tell them you want your mummy", hang on I didn't say that, (Brain, "other parts of your mind may be going south, but I remember, you shouted on your mummy, there are witnesses") Well I still reckon that it was something that sounded like mummy...

Anyway, moving on, before my brain takes over again, you will notice that I am once again in a little predicament where the medics come to me first, see, I really don't want to be the first to blink. and so medics attend helo called and of I am carted to hospital.  In short order I am then casevacd to UK and the Military Hospital in Woolwich, which is now an NHS hospital, cos we don't need any military hospitals cos we don't have any wounded or dying or maimed servicemen, (brain, "Save it for another rant"), and who do you think is the ward sister, yes good old SS, Sister Slattery, and she remembered me, I wonder why as I tend to think of myself as a bit of a wallflower, no really, I am.......

Nearly forgot and it was that bloody author Michael R Hicks, you know the one, him that has written that series of books that once you start reading that you just can't stop until you get to the end, yes that'shim, he's the one, entitled In Her Name anyway that got me remembering about this one.

I used to suffer from sinusitis but didn't realise it and I hadn't thought about it for years.  He mentioned in one of his tweets on twitter @KreelanWarrior that he was having a bit of a sinus problem and lo and behold, I start getting  psychosomatic pains, If he lived round the corner he would have got a smack.  This got me thinking back to about 1982 or 83.  I had been to the dentist on the Monday and had a tooth removed.  On the Tuesday I was back asking him to check if he had missed something as my face was in agony.  He looked at me disdainfully [how dare this upstart accuse me of bothching, mind you I would probably have felt the same had roles been reversed] but he looked anyway and what did he find, nout, nada, nothing, but he did give me a pointer.  He said do you have problems with your sinuses, Sinuses, I didn't even know what a sinus was let alone whether I was having problems with it, so he suggested a visit to the doctor.  So off I trot to the doctor and by this time my face is beginning to swell up as well.  Doctor looks at me examines me, and says, [knew her outside of surgery] well the swelling is a problem, but not to worry, you weren't pretty to begin with, Ha bloody ha.

Off I trot to hospital for an x-ray on the Wednesday, face is getting rounder and bigger by the hour, as is the pain,  pain killers are getting stronger until the Thursday, when I am on injections to knock me out as I am booked into the hospital for the Friday as they have discovered a growth in my cheek cavity.  Did the injections knock me out, don't be silly, of course not Well they might have done for a while but ask @ishbelstronach where she found me at 2 am in the morning, where, Oh, at the bottom of the stairs from the bedrooms to the downstairs hall, lying in a heap unconscious.  How did she find me, did she wake up and discover I wasn't there, not not really, sleep through world war 3 would she, unless it is one of the kids where only women and dogs can hear there wimpers in the middle of the night!

No as I tumbled to the bottom of the stairs I landed by the phone but was still aware enough to call that horrible woman doctor Chancellor who cast aspersions on my good looks earlier in the week.  Realising it was me on the phone groaning and that the phone had gone dead with no dial tone she dialled our number until the ringing phone woke Ishbel up and got her out of bed.  In short order I was transported of to the local hospital in the wee small hours of Friday morning.   After being brought round from surgery I was informed by the doctor that they had pickled the problem and were going to use it in class,  it was a polyp apparently.  I had suffered a broken nose in the past and this had blocked up one of my nostrils.  The act of blowing your nose apparently prevents these things from growing, as they are present in everyone, so they tell me.  Anyway as I could not clear that particular route this thing had been growing for years and had started to grow so large that it travelled back up the sinus canal and then down in to my cheek cavity where coincidentally it was on the same side as where the tooth was that has been removed.  I could go on and tell you about the bandages that were stuffed up my nostril and the problems they caused, but I think we have had enough graphicness for this blog, don;'t you and as I say all down to that man Hicks for reminding me, thank you Michael.

So, as you can see after all the the misfortune experienced by me and @ishbelstronach, hers because of the mess she cleaned up, mine because I WAS DYING, see, Attack of the Poorlies and why men need Women . I was feeling much better the following morning (Wednesday) and so decided I would pop into the surgery, not for an official visit you understand but rather just to see if there was a bug going round that would explain the previous evenings awfulness.  There hadn't been and I was sent in to see the nurse, who was at a loss to explain it but has put it down to dehydration as I did remember NOT to take a bottle of water on my walk with me and it had got to about 30 degrees, I think that is about 88 American.  But my Blood pressure was taken and pronounced normal, and comment was past about my slimness.  A further appointment was made, for me today to see the Doctor and I have come away from that, awaiting an appointment at the hospital, cos apparently I am going deaf, do you see that @ishbelstronach and @_MarieKennedy and @jenniestronach I am NOT ignoring you all I AM DEAF, so shout louder, when you want my attention.

   Best Wishes