OUCH....

Last Friday evening my anger (probably mainly at myself) boiled over the top of the pan, down its sides, and stained all the top of the cooker. This anger stemmed from a silly pointless remark. I will not go into the cause, other than to say this:

a)        it had NOTHING to do with Vicky
b)        It had been building up all week.
c)        Well c is see below….

My Grandma was ninety last week and a huge family do had been planned for this last weekend. Due to weather issues, it was all rather up in the air if the thing would take place. I had decided about two or three weeks previous we would not attend. However huge storms of guilt raged in my brain. These storms were fuelled by winds of uncertainty as to whether the thing would take place at all. Also a stinking filthy sense of inadequacy and self loathing further helped to push me towards an explosion.
On Wednesday (the actual day of the birthday)I’d called my grandma. This went well, exepted for an unexpected (I didn’t know he was there!) call of
“goodbye Philip”-in a tone seemingly filled with sarcasm and… well I don’t know what, from my uncle. My uncle, a strange man, I’ll leave it at that.

These to words had played over and over in my mind like a paranoid lunatics tic. “do they all hate me?” “do they disbelieve me?” “…am I going mad here…?” etc. And so on Friday night I called up my folks had a silly …well not row, as it was mainly me shouting. This ‘discussion’ ended very abruptly due to being called ‘boring’ , I probably am went going through the shit-storm of hell that is a near psychotic-hyper-mania episode.

The red mist was the shad of dried blood. I paced for a few seconds then with my left hand (yep, kids, the left hand of my left-handedness) took a full swing at the bedroom door. Now I say swing, it was more of a karate style straight out from the body style attack then any kind of roundhouse effort. I chose (not that I was really debating with myself which of the doors in the house to assault!) this door as it had a towel hung over it that may have cushioned the blow. It didn’t. the pain in my hand elbow and shoulder was instantly extremely intense. But also a huge relief from the mental pain my brain was giving me. OOOOOOUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCHHHHH!!!!!! Ouch ouch…

After say twenty minutes of agony Vicky called NHS direct, and on there advice we got a taxi to the nearest casualty. Which was not yet experiencing its usual Friday night melt down but still seemed an utterly forlorn and dismal place. Blah blah, I got seen etc, after three x-rays they were still unsure if it was a brake. I hand broken my little finger years ago in a similar (although alcohol fuelled)event whist at college, however it had gone untreated properly. The x-rays I had last Friday did show up something but the doctors said it could be related to this previous injury. I can move all my fingers and had no pain in my wrist, which is apparently a good sign. So I was sent on my way with 2 ibuprofens and a crap sling. So, that is the story of how I damaged my hand. Since then much has happened and God alive its only Tuesday, however due to having to write this with my right hand, something I didn’t contemplate initially due to my right hand being a)useless b)actually surprisingly weak, I can’t go into detail. I can’t be arsed to go into much detail as it’s taken me nearly two hours to write this( although I have had a shower and breakfast as well). The best advice I found via google was on a site run for and by bouncers! Its most common and seemingly important advice is REST. Total rest of the hand now, will pay well for itself later on. So that is what I am doing. However frustrating it is I am not using my left hand for anything at all… so as I say this is not the longest blogspot.

One last thing. I have a new and profound respect for all accident victims who have to radically adapt there body us and out look after loosing limbs or becoming wheelchair bound. It is not just a physical thing. The anger and guilt riddle my brain at my own stupidity, but also utter general frustration with the stupidest of things (try making a sandwich, tying your laces or making a hot water bottle with one hand) is making me the eqivalate of, well, a bear with a fucking busted paw…

Peace out, see yaz on the flip side….