A&E – Part Two

On the shortest morning of the shortest day, we are cooped up inside while the wind buffets and the rain scatterguns our window. Our neighbour’s whomping willow is whipping itself into a frenzy. I feel for kids and commuters, having to brave these storms to reach their destinations. For the posties tramping along the streets trying to push our Christmas deliveries through letterboxes before they fly off. For the local lollypop people standing in the squalls with their high-vis arms out-stretched to keep the children safely in a line on the ground. But the two of us are not going anywhere this morning thank goodness. We’re grateful for that double-glazing, and staying resolutely behind it.

 ‘Oh, by the way’, Anne says, ‘there are a couple of parcels that need picking up’.
Hmmm.

It has been an eventful week since Anne broke her arm last Friday night. We had been told on Saturday that the shoulder would heal itself if kept still. But on Monday, Anne called me mid-run to say the doctors had missed another break in her elbow. So we were in A&E again, as, I guess, the clinics were full, and this was the only way to be seen. I could have waxed lyrical about Monday’s clientale but my head had zoned out, and somewhere along the course of the day, I managed to pull a muscle in the back of my head. It was a less bloody room than Saturday, but busier. Babies and older people and everyone in between. A few moments where strong burly security people were trying to calm a fractious man down, but otherwise tiredly sedate. In the corridors past the x-ray and scan rooms, there were several people on trolleys, waiting to find some room in the proverbial inn. The doctors were extremely apologetic about missing the break and put Anne’s arm in a cast to give the elbow more stability. Around seven hours later we got back home.

On Tuesday we were again at the hospital, but this time in to the Fracture clinic, where the ambience was brighter. One boy’s name was called who had a toe broken, and the mother of a second boy, whose lower arm was bandaged, turned around in recognition of his mum.

          ‘Oh hi ____. Are you having a great Christmas build up too?’
   ‘Ha! Can you believe it! He broke it kicking a wall somehow.’

The two teenage boys did their surly best not to look at each other or at the adults.

We were in and out within the hour, with an extra x-ray included. Anne has to come back in the first week of January, for an op on her elbow where she’ll have a plate put in to bridge the gap between the bones. So at least Christmas won’t be completely ruined. We were originally going to host but the hosting will now be done elsewhere. I’ll still cook the meats and the main veggie option, under Anne’s careful supervision, but it will mean that when she’s tired, or I start craving some introvert time, we can leave the proceedings handy.

My annoying head muscle was becoming slightly irate, and so I changed my massage request on Wednesday. Both Anne and I get monthly-ish massages from the wonderful Bex. I was going to cancel mine as well as Anne’s this month but she made me go.

            ‘One: you can’t totally deprive Bex of business, especially at Christmas, and two: why don’t you swap your legs for a neck massage.’

It was good advice, as I’ve not been running much at all lately. The massage was less painful than her normal pummelling of my calves and hammies. In fact, it was really quite relaxing, so I wasn’t sure if it would get into that knot above my neck.

This morning though, I have felt a marked improvement, and can bob my head about any which way again. I’m sure it was the massage but it could also have been our decision to watch a gentle Sandra Bullock Christmas rom-com from the nineties, While You Were Sleeping last night.

The sun’s made half an appearance, and although the wind’s still up, the rain has, at least momentarily stopped. A good time to pick up those parcels I think.