The Paw 2 - the sequel.Another op for Dupytrens but this time on right index finger that had been postponed due to the sepsis hit in March. Out at the Golden Jubilee hospital in Clydebank Monday night for early Tuesday theatre which ended up postponed for 5 hours when an emergency came in.As I wasn’t allowed to leave on my own after the procedure despite protestations I’d been in worse states before and made it home my wonderful, caring wife Simone had to train it over to pick me up and we had a soft shell trip back on a rail journey that would have taken ages if I hadn’t been medded up to the eyeballs. .
Listened on BBC radio to the Scotland game first half on i phone on the train till we got to Waverley and then TV and a Guiness before radio again to Longniddry. Finished at home on TV and the painkillers definitely helped. No great surprise, Belgium were fantastic. Now typing with right thumb and left hand and eradicating continual typos. Can’t write for a couple of weeks so a bit of a drag. Tomorrow I’m off to London to record another celebrity ‘Pointless’ and away at 6.45 am. Going to be a long day.
Big thanks to all the staff at the Jubillee especially the 3 Janes , Margaret, Joan, Tanya and others whose names I forgot in the post GA and codeine haze. Especially to my surgeon Mr Cahoon who did another brilliant piece of work on my hand and to the friendly ‘enthusiastic’ anaesthetist ‘Dave’? from Derry who blipped me out to great affect after a firm lecture on alcohol consumption that is seemingly his pre op norm as told to me by nurses. Between that and answering questions on e mail on the phone about where to get tickets for the Manchester gig it took my blood pressure up to where my normal morning caffeine intake gets me first thing.
So that’s 3 hospitals so far this year. Royal Edinburgh for sepsis, the Jubilee for my hand and the surreal colonoscopy in Dunfermline which had me gassed up to tripping levels while I stared at a camera ouput on high def TV watching a set designed by HR Giger and a screenplay written by HS Thomson and Irvine Welsh, the nurse with the gas mask taking to me about chillie varieties while the ‘rear gunner’ sang ‘Kayleigh’ out of tune in my ear as it felt I was being shagged by an elephant. Watching a polyp being removed with what seemed like giant industrial scissors and then clamped with clips I had no idea of how they would leave ny body was particularly surreal as I felt nothing as i sucked on the gas like a Himalyan climber.
Results came back on Saturday and the word ‘bening’ sprang from the page. Deep breath and smile.
So all ok but bad news is I can’t write for a week or so. This means I can’t autograph albums bought on the mail order unless you want an unidentifiable squiggle scrawled on the sleeve. Bear with me, I’ll get back to signing in a wee bit.For now it’s frustrating tappy typing, learning to use a mouse with my left hand and waiting on the splint to be removed and stitches to come out before the endless physio…
Strange coincedence was Ian Mosley texted me the night before i went in saying he was finally sending me up his new book and that he too had a routine hospital visit on his horizon. We were both laughing about getting old but were glad we aren’t drooling together yet 
Onward and upwards.