Not a particularly good sleep. Nurse figured it was because I’d slept a few hours in the afternoon under the anaesthetic. Plausible. Wasn’t helped by sore hip muscles though the soreness is already abating this morning. Been doing a lot of the exercises which are fairly simple at this stage of the game. Very simple. Now waiting for nurse Rachel to come in and run the six am tests. There is also a fairly full “flask” to remove for emptying and replacing. You get to hear it all here 🙂 I’d expect to be able to get up and use the loo from here on. I guess I’ll need to be able to do that if I’m going home, which could happen this pm.
Started listening to the shipping forecast but dumped it as I was neither trying to get back to sleep nor planning a journey by sea. Instead I caught Farming Today. I like listening to Farming Today although the content is often about problems, usually financial related. If you wind the clock back far enough we were all farmers. The problems would have been different but still often financial related. Witness the Rebecca Riots for example. The Peasants Revolt even. The peasants are revolting your majesty. That Rebecca!
So by now I’ve worked out how to use the bed controls. Should have listened to the nurse in the first instance when it came to controlling the lights. I got the how to call assistance bit but the how to switch the light on by simply pressing the yellow button was an instruction I missed. Would have been considered to be multi-tasking and therefore beyond simple me. When another nurse did it in front of my eyes I realised where I’d gone wrong and no longer needed to stretch to switch the light off at the wall. They think of everything innit.
I’m ready for a cup of tea now. At home we take turns in the morning and I was the last to make it but unfortunately for THG there is going to be a month of me not making the tea after I get home from the hospital. She is a trooper. How would I do without her? The garden would turn into a jungle.
Cup of tea is on the way btw. I can’t remember the name of the nurse who came in and offered after the blood pressure etc tests. Wasn’t Rachel. Trouble is I’ve seen so many nurses, each of whom has told me their name, but each of whose name I’d promptly forgotten. They do wear a name badge but the font isn’t big enough for me to read, at least not from my position in bed. Also the lighting is a bit low. Sharon I think. Her name. A Nottingham gal of maturing years. Great patient manner but there again everyone of them has been great.
Today’s important session is with the physio. She is the one who decides that I can go home. If I can get it done this morning then I’ll be able to come home this pm. If she thinks I need a bit more time she can redo the assessment after lunch and I’ll be home this evening. I expect I’ll be ok. All I have to do is walk up and down some stairs correctly and do ten yards or so along the corridor and back. Done it before albeit on the other leg so should be ok.
The build up to having this second hip replacement has been interesting in that my left leg has always been the stronger one. Ever since I broke my right leg on a school ski trip to the Dolomites aged thirteen. Sapada. I still have the photos of mountains I took on the trip, somewhere. Turns out one mountain looks very much like the next when you look at the pics. Now that the right leg has had to take the brunt of the work because of the arthritic left hip it feels as if it has been getting stronger. It’s all relative of course. I’ve not been bounding up the aforementioned mountains but I’ll take it.
When I broke that leg I was taken to hospital in Cortina and put on a ward with three old blokes. None of them spoke English and my Italian hadn’t progressed beyond Grazie at the time. It now incorporates “due birra per favore” or similar. I have two memories of being on that ward. Firstly the nurse offered me milk, a choice of caldo or fredo. I opted for caldo thinking that was “cold” but it came hot. Strange, I thought so I left it to cool down. Everytime the nurse passed she saw that I hadn’t touched the glass and finally she had to ask whether I wanted it. I explained the sitch which is then the moment I found out that fredo was cold. Not immediately obvious. In fact both caldo and fredo might be interpreted as meaning cold.
The other memory was of the three old guys. They would each get a small bottle of red wine with both lunch and evening meal! On both occasions one of them would open the cupboard door and pur the wine into a large flask already half full of vino. Then during visiting hours their families would bring them more wine. Once the nurses had finished for the day they would open the cupboard and start partying. I declined the offer of a glass. No idea what they were in hospital for that allowed them to drink wine. Hey…
After the skiing was over the other kids went to Venice for the day before flying home but I had to come along later with one of the teachers as I wasn’t deemed agile enough to hop on boats and walk around the city. It was decades later when THG and I finally visited the place.
Back to the present I’ve had a couple of paracetamol and been pumped full of antibiotics through the cannula currently in posish in the back of my right hand. It’s a bit of a faff having it but needs must. At least they’ve removed the tube to the saline drip that has been in since the op yesterday. Hopefully I’ll be able to avoid opiates henceforth Didn’t need them last time and I still have a full bottle of morphine and some pain killing tablets left over from then so will certainly not have to pay for some more. Interestingly the blood thinner, Clopidogrel or simlar, was far more expensive that the morphine whose price is presumably governed by market forces/street price 🙂
Brekkie is not until sometime between eight thirty and nine but there is no rush. I made sure to get brown sauce on the order this time as last time it appeared with no sauce at all and it took five mins or so to bring by which time I’d almost finished eating, despite slowing down the pace. Ya can’t have sausage and bacon without brown sauce. Ketchup in a hot dog is fine but that is not breakfast.
In other news just got an email fromYouTube:
| Hi trefor davies, |
| It looks like Dingus Fucking Khan may not be appropriate for younger audiences under our Community Guidelines. |
| We placed an age restriction on it. |
Our age restrictions are in place to help viewers avoid watching content that they may not feel is acceptable for themselves or for their children. We review content on a case-by-case basis and will make limited exceptions for appropriate educational, documentary, artistic and scientific contexts.
| How this impacts you |
| This video won’t be visible to viewers under the age of 18 or who are not signed in. Otherwise, your channel isn’t affected. |
It might be argued that this fitted the above mentioned “artistic context” but I’m not interested enough to ask them to review the case. Wonder if Facebook will do the same. In fact I’ve now changed the name on FB but it should be obvious what the original word was. My stuff is not visible to non friends anyway and I have no kids in my friends list. The original word stays on Philosopherontap.
Sfine. Dingus FK were a band we saw in the late night cabaret at the Latitude festival a few years ago. Their language was atrocious but it was after eleven pm so no kids there and their music was v high intensity. The whole place got up and bopped. The cabaret was for me the best bit of the festival as they had better booze and tables and chairs to sit at. The beer available at the main arena was Tuborg lager which was terrible not to mention expensive. I could put up with the expensive bit if the beer was good but it was like pisswater.
Dingus FK, when we saw them had just returned, presumably by popular demand, from a two year ban by the festival for trashing the portacabin that had been laid on as a changing room. Urination was involved as I recall. Doubt they are still going now. Maybe a reunion tour at some point?
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Just finished my Full English and now feeling stuffed. Suspect there is still some lingering Mounjaro effect. Will be restarting it next week.
Tharrldo for now.
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Feels like a bit of a production line does the hospital. This one does anyway. They feed people with something wrong with them in at one end and churn them out fixed at the other. That’s the principle anyway. I daresay there are variations of the theme. Partial fixes. Not sure I’d want to be a doctor. They must get a buzz out of doing the job. The people are all v nice. I think the people are all v nice in the NHS as well but they are under a lot more pressure. Much higher workload.
When I get home I have four weeks of applying only 50% weight to the fixed leg. Whilst it doesn’t mean no walking, and I certainly have been given exercises by Natalie the physio, it will mean sitting down a lot. In my case this means doing a lot of work on my book. Much research has been done that can now be written up. Once I get going it will start to flow.
The problem is one discovery leads to another and it gets to the point where there is very little written down. You have to start getting creative by looking at sources not directly relevant a particular person or at least not in an immediately obvious way. For example reading wills from certain parishes can reveal a lot – people get left things in wills who aren’t initially obvious when looking at the name of the person whose will it is.
My 7g grandfather John Jones was left Maesnonni farm by a certain Richard Hughes. John was the son of Richard’s sister Elizabeth. Liz therefore is my 8 g grandmother and must have been married to David Jones. The naming went David ap John ap David etc. This carried on for at least the next century until the male line died off. Presumably it was also the same going back but there are no records from the 17th Century. We really did live in the back end of nowhere. As rural as it comes. Still the same today.
This does mean you have to trawl through a lot of sources to find anything but it is really satisfying when you do come across something relevant.
In other news I dunno whether I’ve ever mentioned it but I really am a messy eater. I therefore decided to tuck my napkin into the top of my shirt before tucking into a bowl of tomato soup. This worked not because the other end of the napkin got dunked into the soup itself. Doh. What’s worse, the act of removing the napkin from the soup resulted in a splodge of tomato soup being spilled onto my tshirt, the very thing I was trying to avoid in the first place. Nice soup mind you. Had the same thing for dinner last night and thought I’d repeat the order flunch.