Cutting remarks

Apart from "I have exorcised the Demons!" I think the most worrying remark you can hear lying down on a doctors couch while he digs into your scalp with the business end of a scalpel is "You're bleeding like a stuck pig, sorry"

How I got into this predicament began a few weeks ago when I saw the GP for a well man check. All systems were checked, pronounced very healthy. Just as I was about to quit while ahead I just happened to mention a strange lump on my head that had seemed to double in size and was, quite frankly annoying. He examined the strange lump, declared it nothing to worry about, but if I wanted it got rid of, he was my man. Which is why yesterday, in the early morning sunshine I sat in the waiting room of the surgery for the minor operation to remove the alien from my head.

For some strange reason the anaesthetic didn't work very well, and having been given enough to kill an elephant the Doc was perplexed as to why I could still feel the scalpel point as he prodded around ET. Neither of us could understand why my jaw was numb and my mouth was now hanging like a tired dogs but we both agreed that ET should go home and the Doc should as he put it "Give it a go and see what happens"

So while he dug deep I thought of nice things like puppies, ice cream and tried not to think of the ice axe in the top of my head sensation. A chance comment along the lines of "Can you feel the blood running down your neck?" alerted me to the fact my life blood had spilled over the couch, and irritatingly for the receptionist who would be tasked to clean them, a box of kiddies toys. They were bright colours anyway, but additional splashes of red would not be appreciated, especially as they might suck them. The gaping wound caused by prising the alien from my head was stitched. The two stitches became three as I refused to stop bleeding. Finally with five stitches the flow was stemmed and as my scalp had been drawn together to close the gap I left the surgery minus alien but with an expression of complete surprise as any other facial configuration threatened to burst the stitches and increase the continued blood loss.

Not being able to afford the luxury of time off sick I went to do my duty, and in any case it was going to be an easy day out at the seaside.

Driving home my head was pounding so I took a little detour to see a friend called Paul who has an amazing job working for Thatchers Cider. Being the kindly sort he helped me out with one of natures painkillers, a cup of green tea. I think he missed the hint that I would have preferred one of the million pints of cider stored in the huge wooden barrels pictured above. If you drank two pints a day from one of these barrels it would take nearly four years to empty. As I was driving it was just as well we didn't open one, so I waited until I got home and drank a bottle he had given me. Cheers Paul.