I stood for a while in the furnace like glow of our anti aircraft light on the end of the stable tonight. In the circle of light three horses ambled around picking up leaves, seven dogs careered about picking up choice pieces of horse pooh, two Ryeland Lambs stood shoulder to shoulder amongst the chaos whilst Budge the Cockerel tried to round up his three wives who had scattered when the horses were released.
I should have been cleaning out the stables, instead I was thinking over the events of the day and pondering on what might have been.
Today was check up day at the hospital, so I was subjected to the dubious care of the nurses who look like they wandered off the set of Royston Vasey, I swear three of them are related to Tubbs from the Local Shop.Having got there early my heart sank when within minutes of my arrival I was told they were one hour behind. By the time I was summonsed for my audience with the great man himself, Mac the Knife, my surgeon, they were two hours late. He was his usual modest self and congratulated us on our achievement in repairing a hideous injury. I was tempted to point out that my contribution far outweighed his 8 hours knife trickery and subsequent follow up checks and operation. I let him sing his praises as he pointed at key points of the latest x rays which rather pleasingly showed a huge amount of bone growth, my arm it seems has joined together.
I interrupted his flow.
"Whats stopping my arm from straightening?"
He paused for breath and regarded me over the top of his glasses. He gushed about fixing an impossible break, most people don't present an injury like mine, remember they nearly lopped it off, he jabbed excitedly at the x ray, this isn't how we fix arms, this was cutting edge, seat of your pants surgery, these bits of metal aren't supposed to be used this way, in fact they are the wrong bits, had they waited for the right bits it would have been too late, some of these bits are inside the bone pinning it together never to be removed, the big bit, well lets not be hasty, leave it, what, six months and then he will take it out but its a major operation. He went on to tell me how they would have to flay all the muscle out, split it right down here, across here and had I not been of sterner constitution his graphic description would have made me feel quite ill. At least I now knew that the pain was caused by the metal.
There was silence. I realised the great man had asked me a question. "Why did I want to straighten my arm anyway?"
I mumbled something incomprehensible about reaching stuff, a weak argument totally destroyed by his letting me know that very little human activity requires a straight arm, and if you want to reach stuff stand closer, he would advise using a ladder but given my demonstrated ineptitude perhaps not.
"I think we've done a good job. My advice is be happy with what you've got, you nearly lost it."he finally said.
Back at Rock HQ with Tracey, Beth, Ben (currently in Cyprus) and our animal companions its true, I am happy with what I've got because when I fell I so nearly lost it.