Friday, November 8, 2013

Polly Thinks She's Made A Mistake

Recently I've been reading some thought provoking articles and browsing all kinds of blogs. My time away from my blog has been spent well, honest! However it was this picture that brought me back to my senses as it stimulated the memory of one of the most ridiculous things I've done as a supposedly mature adult:

I'm sure we can relate to the look of sheer horror as that youngster realizes his mistake. I have no doubt we've all experienced something similar. I think it's unlikely though that anyone has found themselves in this exact situation aged around 35yrs older than this wee tot, hanging from an aluminium framed window on the first floor in this exact position...

Personally I blame hospital administration for my misadventure. My colleague dashed to the window to grip my finger tips, just in case. Her face gaunt with the sickening realization that I might actually fall.

What had led me to this position was the fact that administration had withdrawn the use of our on-call room, locked us out of it! A bright blue light was glowing into the fading evening and curiosity killed the cat. What the hell had they done with 'our room'...?

It's not as though I'd not done it before! I'd locked myself out of that room before. With the benefit of hindsight and a certain resigned maturity I can now look at that situation and ask why? Why on earth would a responsible clinical manager put themselves in that situation in the first place. Like why?

I've always been a bit of a daredevil. I was fit. I was lithe. Curiosity got the better of me. Physically I was strong and what the heck, why not?

Stuck?! Yes. I was stuck alright. And nervous. I'd visions of being rescued by the fire brigade. Of being the laughing stock of the hospital; wrapped from head to toe in plaster of paris bandages & in traction. I'd visions of being scraped up off the ground like strawberry jam.

Thankfully I was able to 'relax a little' and flipped myself around so I could face the building and somehow climb back into the opened window. No harm done. Nobody hurt. Emergency over folks, there's nothing to see here. Thank goodness. We nearly died that night; laughing...

Once my shift was over I took myself home and did all sorts of bits and pieces at home before eventually heading off to my proper night's sleep in my own bed. Bliss? It would've been apart from a pain in the muscles between the ribs. Oh the agony... Needless to day a trip to the doctor was in order followed by a trip to my Mum's, where I would stay for the next 10 nights while taking the super strong pain killers. It was great

The tramodol took its effect. At its peak I was asleep or at the very least drowsy, at best I was lucid and in pain. Somewhere in between there was another place where I just felt cotton woolly, floaty & away with the fairies. I was pain free! But as it started to wear off, I started to itch. Itch. And Itch.

I was black and blue. Unable to sit still. And spaced out. Scratching like a junkie. Guess what my Mum did? She waited for that perfect moment and would pounce - with her scrabble board. She knew she'd beat me in my drugged state. What she hadn't banked on was me beginning to sober up at around  half past one. This gave me an hour or so to whipe the floor with her! Ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Something else that triggered that memory. It was three o'clock in the morning before my meds kicked in, I slept in today. I was woken by fifteen year old LB who was up bright and early .God bless him, tea was the last thing on my mind. Tea was lovely in a melamine camping mug, it cooled quickly. So, I was up.

I'm lethargic. My muscles ache all over, the ones between the ribs are fine today. THANK GOD. I've been updating the Cub Scout waiting list today! I've decimated it. Updated our information. Answered some enquiries. Drunk loads of tea. Eaten last nights left overs. And dossed on the sofa today. I've been Bridget Jones - my sin being my jar of Nutella! Our grocery shopping has not been done.

I've a freezer load of fish and a strong desire to indulge in a nice Chowder with crusty fresh bread. I'll phone himself and ask him to hunt down a bottle of Spanish red whine (sic) so we can continue in the way we started. Doing nothing in front of a roaring fire and whiling the night away seems to be high up on tonight's list of priorities.

Okay, so true confessions time is over. It is time for me to go make something wonderful using the frozen fish. I must light the fire to ensure that we do not freeze, given that it's now dark and cold outside. Let's just hope I can do all of this before poor DG gets home from work!

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