| It's not the flying that kills you. It's the sudden stop at the end, when you land!!! 18th May 2006 |
| Ahhhh......... my flying lesson.
I only had the one...... I found that I could fly like a bird (Tweet Tweet). It was only a very short lesson mind you, with a perfect flight ...... and an absolute crap landing. I've decided I don't want to do it any more :( Ok let me explain. ......... It all started when.......... The roof (concrete tiles) on my house were in dire need of a serious overhaul. There were quite a few that were broken, the ridge capping needed re-bedding with concrete, and the roof was generally looking pretty daggy. Steve2 is a painter by trade and does roofs as well. His son Luke handles the roofing side of things. I got a quote from them to fix the roof up and paint it. Before they could do it though I had to get rid of the fibreglass roofing and shadecloth on a couple of pergolas attached to the house. (>>> click for the definition of PERGOLA <<<) It was a nice sunny day, and I had it as a day off (Yahhhhhh). The pergola at the back of the house had fibreglass sheets on it, these had been there since the house was built. The fibreglass was rotting and needed ripping off. In retrospect, when I built it, I should have paid the extra and got the polycarbonate stuff, not cheap fibreglass. Anyway.... hammer and crow bar in hand, I get a ladder, hop up there and start ripping it off sheet by sheet. I'm having fun, hopping from beam to beam and throwing the sheets to the ground to pick up later. All ripped off, I'm sweating like a proverbial in the sun, and stop for a drink and a sit down. The pergola at the rear of the house didn't have fibreglass on it, it only had shadecloth and sheets of wooden lattice. I then decided to go and clear that off as well. Same thing again, I'm up there running around, hopping from beam to beam like a gazelle come mountain goat. The sky is a beautiful blue. I can see the misty trails from the engines of planes, ferrying their human cargo, to places unknown at several hundred kilometres per hour. What a great day. I stop dreaming and get back to work. I grab a sheet of lattice and flick it up ready to cast it to the ground. (Get Ye to the ground, old lattice.....) CRACKKKKK........... "Hmmmm... that's an interesting sound...." I think to myself !!! I look down and see my right foot move..... A frown comes across my face, as I realise the sound of cracking wood, and the moving of the foot, can only lead to one thing. I think to myself "Oh ohhhhh.... that is definitely NOT bloody good Regan old son..." The rest was just like you see in the Road Runner cartoon show. Wile E. Coyote stands there, with sick grin on his face, paused in a moment of time, waiting for the disaster that he knows MUST surely follow. That was me, I was in pause mode. I took a last look at the blue sky, and sure enough a split second later, the timber gave way, and my right foot followed it. My left foot on the other hand (so to speak), was on a nice stable beam, and of course that remained where it was supposed to (good foot...., excellent foot...., well done.....). It was only the errant right foot that was descending to the 4 inch thick concrete below, at what was now, a rapidly increasing rate of knots (bad foot ...., naughty foot...., nasty foot.....). Naturally, and as the song goes..... "My foot bone was connected to my ankle bone; my ankle bone was connected to my..." etc. etc. This meant that all the rest of the bones followed this naughty foot towards the ground. Now; I wasn't about to wait around to hear the word of the Lord; and I wasn't thinking of singing the chorus... "Them bones, them bones gonna walk around" What I was screaming was....... 'Farrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkk !!!! ' I had spun around, and was now flying for the concrete below, HEAD FIRST. At this rapid rate of knots, I knew on the way down that this was not good, and much hurties was going to follow. I managed to put my arm out and sure enough, I hit the ground with my right arm outstretched first. This was quickly followed by my head and shoulders. All the air was knocked out of me (Pooooof..... Farrrrt....), as the rest of my body piled up on top of those three body parts. I had heavy leather garden/work gloves on, and as I sat up I looked at my right hand. The arm was nice and straight.... The hand however, did a lovely 90 degree turn to the left for about 4 inches, then did a nice 120 degree turn to the right. There were also arm bones where arm bones shouldn't have been. Hmmm..... that is definitely not good I decided. I got up on my feet pleased that everything else seemed intact, and was working properly. I was right.... there was now much hurties from my hand. The flying part of the lesson, though short, was fun. The landing was absolutely crap, and needed some serious work!!! I looked at my hand dangling down in front of me. I knew things were broken, and didn't want to lift my arm. I was having visions, if I moved it, of broken bits flopping everywhere, and sharp broken bones grinding against each other. Besides; it was happy dangling between my open legs. I thought of driving to hospital, before deciding that this was definitely wishful thinking . I decided to head for the neighbours house. We have a gate in the fence so we can get to each others place. I was hunched over, legs apart, and with my left hand I'm steadying the arm so it doesn't swing too much. Legs apart like the hunchback of Notre dame I head for the gate. "Fuck.., fuck.., fuck.., fuck.., shit.., shit.., shit........." I was saying to myself every step, as I staggered towards the gate. Then a thought occurred to me..... "Hang on a minute...." "I might get all the way down there and he might not be home..." I did a quick U turn.......... "Fuck.., fuck.., fuck.., fuck.., shit.., shit.., shit........." I said again to myself, as I headed back to my front door. I went in and phoned the emergency number 000, and asked for an ambulance. Through to the ambulance, I'm sitting on a chair, arm swinging, and the woman is talking to me. "Keep talking to me...., did you hit your head?..... The ambulance is on its way etc etc. etc." She's prattling on non stop ten to the dozen, and I'm thinking 'Shit.... thank god I'm not married to this woman, she never shuts up!!' (she was only doing the right thing). Shock is now kicking in. The pain is getting to me and I'm starting to sweat. Momentarily I blank out. I come back to the land of the living (no idea how long later) still sittin in the chair, I look down and I have a phone in my hand, I've no idea why, so I put it to my ear "Hello........." I say. She's absolutely frantic "Aggggghhhh... oh my God, Where did you go? Did you pass out? What's going on?" "NO NO NO" I say "I didn't pass out, I just blanked out for a while..... I'm going into shock that's all" This didn't help at all, and she triples her efforts to either 'keep me awake', or 'nag me to an early death', I'm really not sure which. "The ambulance is nearly there, hang on, don't move, stay with me, how do you feel" she blabbers down the phone. "I'll go down and meet it" I say (just so I can get off the phone). "Noooooooooo" she screams "Oh my God...don't stand up, stay where you are....". I can hear the 'Beep' 'Beep' of the reversing ambulance. If I don't calm her down, this woman is going to have a heart attack, and need an ambulance herself. I say "It's OK, it's here now, thank you very much "She sighs with relief and we hang up. I then imagine her laying back in the chair, a complete lather of sweat, a cigarette in one hand to calm herself down, and a newspaper in the other as a fan. I'm in a battle axe block, and know that they will have trouble backing up the driveway. I go out and meet them. Doing the Quasimodo again I stagger out and get to the top of the driveway. The ambulance is stuck half way up the driveway, with a female ambulance officer trying to direct the driver (female) to back up. With the effort of standing up, and shock, I go dizzy and fall to my knees at the top of the driveway. I let the blood rush to my head, and she looks up at me as I drag myself upright again. They are still having trouble reversing, and I can see they will have an accident soon. So, with my right arm swinging between my legs I do my best Quasimodo impression down towards her. I get there and she says "Did you call an ambulance" Now.... excuse me if I think this question is a mite stupid. I managed to resist the urge to say "No you bloody idiot, I normally walk like Quasimodo" Then I think, I can point up the driveway, and just like in the movie say "Noooo its the Marrrrrster Mam. The Marrrrrrrrster.....". Chances are though, that she has never seen The Hunchback Of Notre Dame anyway. Sweat is now running down me, and I know I won't be standing upright much longer, so I simply say "yes". She looks at my arm, sees me going white, and says "Get in the ambulance quick, and lay down". This is the best offer from a woman I've had so far this day, so I hop in. Next thing I know, they are cutting all the clothes off me. I have an oxygen mask on, and they are checking me out. I have never had two women cut all the clothes off me before. I immediately have wild erotic thoughts. Which just goes to show, that no matter how dire the situation, for a man, procreation and spreading the wild oats, wins out every time!!! The good thing is that my driveway slopes down, and thus my head is down low. Blood rushes to my head and I come awake more. I have a neck brace on, "just in case" they say. I'm absolutely drenched, and they ask if I fell in water. I say "No, that's sweat from the shock". She's amazed. I'm amazed. Everyone is amazed as I lay there half naked with two women working on me. Thank God I had clean undies on (Thanks Mum for you worldly advice). I can feel something running down my arm and tell them. "That's OK, it's blood" she says cheerfully. They inform me that its a compound fracture, and the bone is poking out of my wrist. "Great" I think, as off to the hospital we go. I get priority treatment. Firstly it's a fall, and ergo, I could have a head injury, so I go to the front of the queue. I get X-Rayed from top to toe, and then they do it all twice. They even shove the machine in my mouth. There's nothing left to X-Ray but my willy. I'm really not so sure you can fracture your willy though. Next I have an open wound, and ergo again, I go to the front of the queue in casualty, because of the risk of infection. My hand and wrist are now like a balloon. I'm telling them that this bloody hurts and give me some drugs. They give me a pill. I wait 10 minutes and then I tell them "NO!!!" go and give me more ". By the time they fart-arse about to get permission to give me another one, the first one has totally worn off. They give me a second one. The pain is getting too much and I (politely, but in strong words) tell them so. They run away and get 5mg of Morphine. Zap.......... No go. This has taken 20 minutes to get the OK for 5mg, so that has totally no effect either. I scream at them "Do something....give me MORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR". They rush around and get after 40 minutes get permission to give me more. It's not enough. I say "Don't stuff about, give me the whack from hell, and stop this bloody pain". At last they find a doctor and get the OK to give me a decent dose They were going to give me 10mg, but they decide to give me the full 15mg . ZAPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.... Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...... bliss..... Nice warm feeling. I'm happy, my wrist is happy, even my willy is happy. This is the best decision they have made since I got there.,I have this silly grin on my face and love it.,Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................ that's better I say stupidly.. Finally, I'm on cloud nine, and floating. They can do anythiiiiiiiiiiiing they want now. I don't care. They wheel me into surgery. "Are you allergic to anything?" "Yes............" "What?" "Poverty and pain" I tell them , trying to be funny. They are not amused. They are so not amused, that they jab me with this bloody big needle "Whack............." they zap me out. I wake up at about 2 am in the morning. Throb Throb Throb...... My arm is pulsing like a balloon. It has a contraption on it that looks like it would pick up every FM station on the wave band, and also a few that are not on there. I have a gown on, and know at my bare arse is hanging out the back. I don't care really care but think why do they bother. I stagger out of bed and find a nurse. Pain I mumble, to the first nurse I find. They slip me a micky, and I stagger off back to bed. I'm sure she's checking out my arse. The next morning it's lots of pain, and I examine this contraption drilled into my arm. Yes that's right.... DRILLED and screwed into my hand and arm. It's pretty damn painful, and all they are giving me is Panadeine Forte or something. I keep asking for proper pain killers, and they say that a specialist will come and evaluate me. No one comes and halfway through the second day, along comes a nurse that I haven't seen since I first got in. she's nice and asks me how I'm doing. I tell her the pain is killing me. She looks at the chart, and goes troppo because no one has chased up my pain control program. She marches off and within ten minutes comes back with super drugs. YESSSSSSSSSSSS...... I now have an unlimited supply of super pain killers. I love her to death, and I want her to have my babies. "Check my arse out if you wish" I think to myself. Bloody excellent. I'm on some Morphine type tablets. Great pain control but after a day or so I have the itches everywhere. I'm also starting to dribble a lot. This is not good I decide, I hate drugs, so I start to try and wean myself off them. I spent the next few days in hospital. I was then discharged home, and told to try and get movement in the fingers (Ha!!! as if!!). The swelling (it was like a balloon) had to go down before they could operate again. I went to a specialist and he finally booked me in for the operation for the 2nd June 06. He said that if I didn't start moving it, to get the swelling down, he wouldn't be able to do the second operation on that date. Apparently, if it is still too swollen, and he cuts it open he won't be able to get it back together again. I wanted this fixed, so it was time for some serious exercising. I was trying my best to get some movement back in my fingers, which in turn reduces the swelling. I finally managed to reduce the swelling somewhat. He saw me just before the operation date, and said "yes its all go for the 2nd". I would be glad to see the back of the external fixature. The thing was interfering with television reception something chronic. I starve myself and check into hospital. As my Op. is going to be big; I'm the last one in. I woke up in bed about 12 midnight with my arm in a slab cast. I'm also on a drip thing. Pushing the drip in front of me, I go to find a nurse. "Mucho pain" I mumble "There's a little button at the side of the drip", the nurse tells me. "Just hit that when the pain gets too much, and you'll get a shot of morphine" she then tells me. "It will only shoot so often though, so you don't overdose". Great I think. 'click, click, click' I go. "Ooooooooooo..... that's nice". I'm starving, and have had nothing to eat since the day before. She finds me some food, and then more food. I'm like a garbage disposal. Click, click, munch, munch I go, eating food. Click, click, click I go, all through the night. Its 'click, click, click, ...sleep'. Wake up.... 'click, click, click.... sleep'. The surgeon sees me first thing the next morning . I'm told I have two plates. One on top and one on the bottom. Lots of screws, and no bone graft, which I'm happy about. Jim from the bike rides, is also in a bed round the corner. He had his hand done by the same surgeon. He has a cast as well. I go and see him, or he comes and sees me. 'Click, click, click,' I go. I come back for lunch. 'Click, click, click'. After lunch it's 'Click, click, click,' off to see Jim. All through that day its 'Click, click, click, and I'm being discharged in the afternoon. I don't care anyway, the morphine has just about run out. I have a callous on my thumb from clicking so much. I'm doped up to the eyeballs, have a cheesy grin a mile wide. I'm now floating three feet above the floor. We all stop for a coffee downstairs before heading home. Slurp, dribble grin; I'm still floating on cloud nine. I can't do too much, until I get the stitches out a week later. Naturally it's all swollen up again, and I have open wounds of stitches and scabs. He tells me to exercise my fingers only. Eventually I get the stitches out........ phew thank god. After that comes the hard bit. I now have to go to physio and get this thing working again. I find a physio, and I go to her 2 times a week. At the beginning there's so much pain, that I'm dosed to the eyeballs on pills. I hate being out of it ALL the time, so I start to get myself into a system. It's up in the morning and take a pill. While the pill starts to take effect, the arm goes into a heatbead bag, which has been heated in the microwave. I wait a few minutes for the heat and painkiller to fully kick in, and then hit the exercises. Its bend.... (well try and bend), twist and flex. I have a whole range of exercises and it takes me a half hour, then I cant carry on. There's mucho pain, and then the hand and arm blows up like a balloon. It's then stop everything, rest, and try to get the swelling down again. I know when I'm ready to start the whole process over again..... it's when its as stiff as a board, and I cant move the bloody thing. This is the whole existence of my day. EVERY day. Day in and out. Pain - exercise - pain - exercise, and so on until I crash into bed. Then I'm up and into it again. This seems endless and goes on for days and days. At times I get depressed and wonder if I'm making progress. Then there are little triumphs, like being ably to get the thumb to touch the first finger. Then it's two fingers. Then three. Then its the second joint of the first finger and so on. I pick my nose and congratulate myself. Then I can clean my teeth with my right hand. Then triumph of all triumphs, I can wipe my arse with my right hand. actually even better than that... I can now do it with both hands. I can read a book, change the page, and wipe my arse at the same time. Wonders will never cease. In the end I was off work for just under three months. When the surgeon was checking out my range of movement and signing me off as OK to go back to work; he said "That's the best, and fastest, he has ever seen a person with two plates heal." I should think so. I was 24 hours a day exercising. You want to heal, you have to put the work in. Enough... on to the pics. |
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| THE PERGOLA ROUND THE DEAD SIDE OF THE HOUSE. (Ewwwww.... shouldn't say "DEAD" should I?) |
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| AMAZINGLY I WENT THROUGH THAT GAP, YET DIDN'T HIT MY BODY AGAINST ANYTHING ON THE WAY THROUGH (CLEVER HUH!!). |
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| YOU CAN SEE HOW BENT THE HAND WAS. |
| THE ULNA BONE WENT UNDER THE RADIUS BONE, AND POKED OUT THE INSIDE OF THE WRIST. |
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| AND STITCHED.................. |
| THE EXTERNAL FIXATURE IS DRILLED AND SCREWED RIGHT THROUGH THE BONES IN THE HAND AND ULNA, TO HOLD IT IN PLACE. |
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| WITH THE PINS THAT WERE DRILLED INTO THE ARM; AS I MOVED AROUND, THEY CONTINUOUSLY FLEXED, AND MOVED. THIS MEANT THAT THE ENTRY WOUNDS NEVER HEALED UP, AND WOULD CONSTANTLY WEEP, SCAB, AND PULL. IT WAS A CONSTANT DULL ACHE IN THE BONES ALL THE TIME. |
| YOU CAN SEE HOW FAT THE HAND AND WRIST IS. I COULD STILL SMILE THOUGH. <<<---BONE POPPED OUT HERE. |
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| HAD TO KEEP CHANGING THE DRESSING |
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| HIP HIP HOORAY. THE FIXATURE IS GONE AND I HAVE HAD THE SECOND OPERATION TO PUT THE TWO PLATES IN. WITH JIMS RIGHT HAND, AND MY LEFT, WE COULD HAVE RIDDEN A M/BIKE HOME. |
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| DISCHARGE LATER THAT DAY. THERE WAS NO POINT IN STAYING ANYWAY AS I HAD RUN OUT OF DRUGS WITH MY CLICKER AND WAS TOTALLY 100% OFF MY TITS (HENCE THE STUPID (WHO GIVES A SHIT) GRIN). |
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| 2 TITANIUM PLATES AND 8 SCREWS LATER...... WHAT A WASTE, I GOT SCREWED 8 TIMES, AND DIDN'T EVEN FEEL IT!! :( |
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| AND I GOT STITCHED.................... |
| AND STITCHED............. |
| THEN THEY TOOK THEM OUT. |
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| TWO YEARS LATER ALL IS FAIRLY GOOD. ON THE TOP OF MY ARM I ONLY HAVE A NICE INDENTATION AND SCAR. THE INDENTATION IS HANDY FOR PUTTING THE SALT WHEN I EAT FISH AND CHIPS IN BED. UNDERNEATH IS A SCAR THAT LOOKS LIKE I WAS SUICIDAL AT ONE STAGE. IF YOU POKE YOUR FINGER IN BETWEEN THE BONES YOU CAN FEEL THE PLATES. THE WRIST IS A GOOD 97% AS NORMAL. I WAKE UP STIFF IN THE MORNINGS, BUT MOST MEN WOULD SAY THATS A BLESSING (GRIN). IM STILL EXERCISING IT AND DONT THINK I WILL EVER STOP DOING THAT. I DONT WANT TO LOSE MOVEMENT TO ARTHRITIS OR SOMETHING. |
| I GOT A NICE SLAB DRESSING, AND THEN THE HARD WORK STARTED. |
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| On To The Next Page (COMING SOON) |