Monday, November 23, 2009

News from the horsepiddle

I hesitate to write this, as it may look like whingeing and I know there are folk a lot worse off but, well, it’s a real life story, so please just treat it as faithful reportage.

As many of you know, I have been blessed with sciatica and, last December, a man with a very sharp knife rummaged around inside my lower back, decompressed two spinal nerves (good job he reads Wikipedia because that says: “Sciatica is generally caused by the compression of lumbar nerves L4 or L5” and those are the bad boys he zapped) and caused half of one of my discs to become the subject of an “ectomy”. I don’t suppose he actually rummaged an awful lot as I would hope he knew precisely the spot to target; I had my GPS with me just in case.
A month or so after that, I was able to drive my car again (the condition had previously prevented my lifting my left leg to operate the clutch) and everything, if not totally dory, was definitely hunky. Sad to relate, things took a turn for the worse about two months ago and I am back thanking Providence for scientific advancement in the field of analgesia (from the Greek an-, without, + algesis, sense of pain). You can learn a lot reading this blog. My GP told me I should have had an assessment three months after the last one (March) but I’d heard nothing and, when I rang the Orthopaedic Department to make an appointment, the clerk confirmed I should indeed have had one in June. I’d heard nothing.

Anyway, I went the other day and, after asking me to roll my left trouser leg up (which is quite difficult these days, since the knee and ankle are often swollen up to about 1½ times normal size), the doctor made me do some pushing and pulling movements with my foot and then discharged me. Apparently, there is nothing more that can be done surgically to rectify the problem and the period since I had the surgery (11 months) is very short in terms of its effects, which can very commonly take 18 months or more to precipitate a marked improvement.


Things seem to have stabilised over the last week or so to the extent that I am able to walk around the house (slowly) without the walking stick and it only hurts when I walk, as opposed to all the time.
It’s not so bad. At least I can play games on the new Wii as long as I stand fairly still. I’ve got a wireless nunchuck and everything!

Friday, November 20, 2009

Letter to a dead Goon

Dear Mr Milligan,

I am so sorry. I know that you’re dead (and, by the way, I suspect I may be one of the few people who actually believed you when you said you were ill) and I bitterly regret that I never had the opportunity to shake your hand before you shuffled off this mortail coil. I am, and always have been, a great admirer and avid devourer of your work – in literature (Puckoon and the Adolf Hitler series spring immediately to mind), radio (The Goon Show – what else?) and television (too many classic appearances in a multitude of programmes to mention). Make no mistake, you were a comic genius in life and the legacy of your work will ensure the continuation of that status even though you are gone.

I am not necessarily a staunch supporter of the quote of that famous Greek bloke, Chilon of Sparta, popularised by the Italian theologian Ambrogio Traversari in 1432, when he translated it into Latin to the now well-known and oft used de mortuis nil nisi bonum, but I respect its obviously well-meant moral assertion.

However, upon a recent sojourn to town, during which I had occasion to visit the local Sue Ryder shop, I bought a copy of your book Robin Hood according to Spike Milligan, the existence of which I am ashamed to admit I was hitherto unaware and was more than happy to fork out £1.50 for the privilege of owning it. I have now read it from cover to cover, having felt obliged to do so.

It is shite.

Yours faithfully, Lois.

P.S. I am really sorry.