hospital

I thought that when I broke my arm I would be in a cast for a few weeks, get loads of sympathy and then the cast would come off and I would be back to normal.

What a crock of shit.

Two weeks out and my arm is still about as dextrous as a dead pig's trotter - I went for my first physiotherapy session today. I have no idea where I get these rosey misconceptions from but I had it in my head that I would go to see the doctor - they would crack my hand about a bit and then, magically, it would be loads better and I would be able to get back on my bike and pick up things that are heavier than crisps.

So I am out of that cast and it is rubbish. Not only did I forget to take a picture of my arm as it first came out after 7 weeks internment (btw it looked like you would imagine The Mummy's cock looks like) but it has gone back to hurting all the bloody time. Also I don't have the cast to ware as a sympathy flag so no one is getting out of my way on the bus and stuff. The Hospital gave me a lacklustre beige splint thing to ware to replace my supercool graphed up cast and array of dandy slings.

On the upside though my arm and fingers are almost a normal colour and my wrist is barely withered away at all. Also I have two cool little scars and a rank bump where the big pin is almost poking out and you can feel it - check it out:

Today was to be a pivotal day in my life. A mixed up irresponsible oik yesterday and bastion of stability tomorrow. This was to be achieved by taking a day off work and doing all the boring grown-up bollocks I need to do in one day. I had the whole thing planned out:

• 9 o’clock – Take Janit to the vets for anti-fleas jab before she got fleas again;
• 10 o’clock – go to the hospital and get a new proper fitting cast for my broken arm so it mends properly;
• 12 o’clock – Get Back home and phone:
• HMCE about the fines I owe them before I am arrested
• British Gas about the 3 grand they decided to direct debit out of my account in Feb (the cunts)
• Claim on my holiday insurance for the two grands worth of stuff I had nicked in Jan
• Half 2 – go to the dentist get my teeth super cleaned;
• 3 o’clock – back home – tea, biscuits, and a bit of working from home - smug as the bloke from Razorlight showing Chris Martin a picture of Kirsten Dunst’s tits on his mobile

However, in real life it went down like this...

Everyone else went to work really early so I had to try and get Janit into her carry case by myself. With one arm. Needless to say she was having absolutely fucking none of it and made short work of evading capture while I tried to spoon her up with one hand. Eventually she felt sorry for me and let me catch her - whereupon she became a liquid magnetically repelled by the cat box and to shoehorn her in there would have defied the laws of physics. I phoned the vets and told them I would book another appointment when I have two arms.

Called for Emma and Flo to walk down to Hommerton with me. It was proper throwing it down so we stopped for a cup of tea at Emma’s and then coffee and a bite at a café half way. By the time I got to the hospital it had gone noon and the plastercast guy said that he couldn’t see me until two as the other doctor was off sick (physician heal thyfuckinself). That was too late for me so I headed to the dentists.

At the dentist I had a 'Deep Clean’

...which entailed the cunt getting a hypodeemic nerdal the size of a large sword and stabbing me all over the face with it while I feebly tried to escape his evil lab and him then holding me down and firing what I can only deem was some sort of white noise laser pain inflictor all over my teeth for the best part of half an hour.

I left my keys at Emma’s so I had to do a half hour or so of walking about the streets poking the unflinching look of fat disbelief that is my face and drooling blood all over myself before I could get back home and sulk. I cant sulk properly either because cant speak to anyone as I sound like Sloth out of the Goonies.

I still can't feel my nose.