Stare Into Space

Achy Breaky Head

Posted on | March 14, 2010 | 11 Comments

That’s my skull, that is.

Not really, of course.  If it were my skull, it’d have a frickin’ crack in it. If it were my skull, it’d have a fracture in the left occipital bone to the occipital condyle.  In non-medical terms, this means it would hurt.  A lot.

Somehow, I managed to crack my head.  The ‘how’ part is a mystery.  Quite literally.  A chunk of time, about five hours long, seems to have been knocked out of my head from the jolt. Either that or it seeped out through the crack.

While the cynical among my readers are probably thinking, “yeah, yeah, more likely a beer-bomb-blackout,” I can state that, while I was out with some friends for some drinks before the incident, I was last seen being boring and leaving for an early taxi home (eschewing the chance of more drink in another pub).  Somewhere soon after this sensible act, something occurred to see me brought to Accident & Emergency by ambulance, in full spinal-support, with a broken head and suspected broken neck.

Just what this incident was is not accessible in my poor damaged noggin though.  I don’t even remember leaving my friends.  I have a very clear demarcation line in the evening’s memories that doesn’t go that far (and in fact is quite a while before it).  I’m told this isn’t uncommon with injuries of my sort.

So then. Three days in hospital. What fun.  In a ward with five other blokes.  Of them, one seemed to have had his lungs filled with a mixture of milk-shakes, butter and old motor-oil; one had three-quarters of his scalp covered with skin grafted from his legs, attached with huge, Frankenstein stitches and one woke only infrequently to shout and swear at the nurses.

Speaking of nurses, the nursing staff were absolutely brilliant.  Give ’em all a raise I say because they’re not paid enough.  To get the money to do so, take it from the doctors (or, to be fair, at least the ones in the hospital I visited).  Conspicuous by their absence is the phrase that leaps to mind.  Maybe it was just me they were avoiding but I went two of my three days without seeing a doctor.  Even my discharge was through a nurse who wasn’t able to fully answer the questions I had.  Nurses: great. A&E Staff: great. Ward-type doctors: dunno – never saw ’em.

I blagged my way out of the hospital yesterday and have to rest up in bed, for the next few days.  I actually really, really dislike lying about in bed but I’m inclined to acquiesce on this occasion.  The constant headache and tiredness, and the occasional dizzy spells, are in bed-rest’s corner on this one.  Word is that I’m likely to have a headache for the next fortnight or so.  That’s something to look forward to, eh?  Nothing strenuous for the next four weeks too so, if anyone wants to build a wall and a raised bed in my back garden, please apply below.

So that’s been my last few days.  To be honest, I’d advise against it.


Gerry Hayes

Gerry Hayes

I mostly sit around all day and drink tea. Occasionally, I write stuff and send it to strangers so they can humiliate me and deride my efforts. Other than the self-harm to dull the shame of failure, it's not a bad life. Like I say, there's tea.

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