29th June 2007
Where has Kenny been?
Barbados? No.
Wih Rosemary the telephone operator? No.Getting on Angelina Jolie? No.
having needles pushed through him such that he now resembles a cross between a pin cushion a smackhead. I reckon about 50 over the week. Nice. More tomorrow once I have my typing fingers back.
A week in hospital ogling at cute nurses. Who wants that?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 15:11 BST, by Kenny
24th June 2007
Sad
It's bad when you end up being awake on a Sunday at 4:00am crying out for your mum in agony, at the age of 38. She's five miles from here and probably could do little other than hug you.
There are six women and two men in my life I trust at the moment. My mum, grandmothers, the Flip-flop, K and Dr T are the women. My dad and my brother are the men.
God, my head is all over on these painkillers. It probably doesn't help that I'm awake at this time of day. For some strange reason I awoke with an old poem in my head, one that amuses me to this day -- I have known this for decades and it will never leave my psyche -- I love it for its humor and simplicity:
Late one morning in the middle of the night, two dead men got up to fight, back to back they faced each other and with their swords they shot one another.
Tell me that is not just genius and then tell me to get the hell back to bed.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 04:11 BST, by Kenny
23rd June 2007
Pathetic
I've just spent the last two hours crying into my mother's arms. She has the most beautiful blue and sympathetic eyes. She is such a carer. Isn't it wonderful to have a mother who will quite happily let you weep all over her? She's feckin' amazing. This is where my 50/50 left/right comes from. I have the scientific brain but I have the carer side too but I also appreciate the brilliance of those that care for others.
Thanks mum. You're bloody gorgeous and kinder than hell.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 18:33 BST, by Kenny
Therapeutics
I'm in so much pain that I want something to watch that relaxes me. I used to like watching the fish in the pond (yer ner) but they have all been either eaten by herons or contaminated by birds and died from fungal infections.
I'm so tense that I have to consciously watch what I'm doing. Once you realise how tense you are, you can make a deliberate and effective relaxation move.
On a brighter note, Die Fuhrer's back yard looks gorgeous. The pond that I made for her is lovely -- she always wanted one. And the bench that mater and pater bought for her looks brilliant with it. Add some foxgloves (of the pink and white variety) and you have the perfect garden. For Bryn, this garden is gorgeous. She works so hard on it, and it shows.
In other news, Nski and I have had a text message spat, probably violently agreeing. We're both worried about the kids seeing we're both on the way out. Race you Nski! Nski has never earned a pension so I need to sort my will out such that the kids get whatever is there -- fairly substantial but not life-changing.
Oh well.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 08:36 BST, by Kenny
22nd June 2007
Oh God
Zer is anozer Shepherd's Pie on ze vay. Cholesterol levels vill be horrendous.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 10:17 BST, by Kenny
Lay off
Apparently (and I haven't seen it as it is only in the print version of Private Eye), they are dissing Bryony for being the daughter of a Mirror journo and the niece of one of the Telegraph heads. Totally unjustified. The girl can write. No question about that.
The implication is that she got her job because of her "contacts". That's like saying I got mine because my dad was a chemical engineer. Utterly ridiculous. You get jobs on merit, not on who you know. Bryony is a talented writer and as can be seen by the comments on her blog/column, there are an awful lot of people who enjoy her stuff.
I feel daft defending someone I don't know but I'll do it anyway.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 10:11 BST, by Kenny
21st June 2007
Some people are just stars
K has just been on the phone again. I was asleep but I bolted up when I heard it was her -- she's a little spot of heaven in an increasingly hellish world. Her very voice makes me grin like a Cheshire cat. If she had a few more pounds of weight on her, I'd be smitten.
She is so good at her job and so kind -- the phone has just gone again, and in a rare moment of inclarity, I answered it -- she has got me in for some treatment in the next couple of weeks. Starry K -- thank you.
This means you may not have any bloggage for up to three weeks as of whenever I get in, but believe me, when I get out, the quality will be better.
In the meantime, you'll have to put up with this muck.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 10:22 BST, by Kenny
20th June 2007
Dreyfus
Ze erld Dreyfus ploy.
Die Fuhrer has declared herself Dreyfus to my Clousau. The odd accent that is a mixture of German and Wiganese attempting a Dreyfus is hilarious.
She's given it the erld lottery, buy a gun and dismiss Clouseau ploy.
Mer latter, yer ner.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 15:09 BST, by Kenny
In breaking news
Something bizarre happened last night. The Fiona Apple was foresaken for some Dolly Parton. Thanks to Lauren from the Horn in St Albans, I acquired a newly found appreciation of Dolly last year. Jolene has to be one of the best songs ever written.
In other news (this is starting to sound like the two Ronnys), I'm starting to look like a tennis ball. Having not shaved for eons, my facial fuzz is as long as my hair. Call me Moses but leave your tennis racquets at bay.
My painkillers are weird too. They're called Pregabalin. That, to me, sounds like foreplay to a chat. They work in as much as I can move a little easier, but they knock you for six. I'm allowed two a day but I spend half of every day sleeping due to them. "May make you feel drowsy". How's about completely knock you out. Feet still hurt though not quite as much.
Life has a habit of kicking you in the nads. Let's just deal with it and get on eh?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 09:44 BST, by Kenny
19th June 2007
Oh well
As well as having gone off meat, I cannot stomach fish. This is horrendous. I put it down to the meds. I ate about a metric ton of cucumber salad for lunch and about half an ounce of hake. Sad!
I still ming of Thiamin no matter how many baths I have. It just oozes from every pore. I'd sooner smell diapers than Thiamin.
And the Fox's comment had me splattering coke (of the cola variety) all over the place. I'd forgotten that.
I'm going onto Amazon and ordering the whole Pink Pather collection. Eet is nert proberly zee right sing to do geeven my current frame of meind, but it vill entertain me. And ze benefits vill be zat I can become Clouseau even mer.
I really do have to get over this. I should not order DVDs of Clouseau. It really will send me into apoplexy, hilarity and a strain of madness. But I will.
Oh well.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 14:30 BST, by Kenny
Music
Okay peeps, explain to me why I am so addicted to women who play piano. Is it piano envy (there's innuendo there just in case you missed it)? I can hold my own on the old ivories but my voice sounds nothing like Kate Bush, Tori Amos or Fiona Apple.
I suppose that I am just in love with my non-existant piano.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 09:48 BST, by Kenny
Signs of life
I forgot to mention that yesterday I managed to make one of my infamous Shepherd's Pies. I capitalize because these things truly are sublime.
I invited the parental units around for lunch on a whim. When my mother heard I was making one, she did a Formula 1 up the road. I swear, between the invite and her arrival, there were milliseconds. She adores my recipe. She has now probably got a speeding ticket -- well, that's if the camera was quick enough to catch her.
I dished it up, and mutti got stuck in like someone who had not eaten for days. If we hadn't been around I can guarantee that she would have licked the plate. Needless to say, the mammoth dish I made went within about 20 minutes.
I'm happy that (a) I could make it into the kitchen without falling down, (b) I can cook at least one dish that doesn't include frying bacon and eggs and (c) that everyone who has ever tried my Shepherd's Pie has virtually had an orgasm. Oh, and (d) I could stomach some meat.
Job done! Time for one of my happy pills that relieve the pain.
Eet vas ze old Shepherd's Pie ploy, yer ner.
Really must stop that.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 07:52 BST, by Kenny
18th June 2007
Dr T
I have to say that this girl, Dr T, is a bloody Goddess. If she wasn't wearing an engagement ring, I'd be down on one knee, even though I have sworn off ever entering another long term relationship.
She has the cutest little Pinoccio nose, the deepest blue eyes and a knowledge of stuff like nothing on earth. She was a bit dappy though -- I had to remind her what page she was looking at -- 246. I suppose she was focused on thinking about what she could do for my pain rather than what page the drug was on. Whatever she was looking up appears to be working. It's less than 30 minutes since I took one of these things and I'm already easing up. You can just feel the relief flushing through you.
As I say, a Goddess. I know she visits here every now and again so I feel it only right to say a public "thank you". "Don't take off -- I need you darling." You need to stay there. Locum chemists are one thing but when you find a top GP you can trust, it's like winning the lotto. She's way too pro to admit she reads this though. I know both Dr T and K do. As I've said you're both astral.
Dr T wrote "peripheral neuropathy" on my sick note -- she could have just written "BUGGERED". Bless -- she's a star and I wouldn't want any other doctor ever.
And as if my hero-worship wasn't high enough, Bryony was on here today and given the old medication (you ner -- Clouseau again -- at least I managed to stop that while I vas in ze docteurs), I'm veree surpreesed zat I deed nort faint.
As I said "rum servees, zer is a beautiful woman in my bed and a dead man in my bass."
I really need to get over this Clouseau kick.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 19:12 BST, by Kenny
I'm becoming increasingly bizarre
And my mother doesn't help.
I've become Clouseau. My mother and I are now communicating in "verds" rather than English. Even on the phone we are in ze old fern ploy.
I may be in pain and incapacitated but I still have a sense of humor.
Special deeeeelivery -- a burm.
Kill Clouseau!
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 09:39 BST, by Kenny
The joys
I love my doctor to death, as is well documented, but the bloody phone system sucks donkey.
If you ring at 08:27, you get some random answerphone crap. If you ring momentarily (08:30) after, it's engaged. What the hell kind of system bleeps at you and tells you it is engaged nowadays? This is not the 70's. We have call waiting now -- it may not be ideal but it is better than bleeps -- at least you can hold rather enter a lottery. I swear they just take the phone off the hook, just to have a coffee, a fag and a good natter.
Add to this the fact that the number for work doesn't work. That doesn't bleep. It just hums. Honest to Betsy, our telecoms industry is utter rubbish. Communication? Forget it. We're no more likely to be in touch with anyone if we were using tin cans and rope.
I know I have said that I hate phones but when it comes to professional matters or my well-being, I'll live with them. I'll take work phone calls anytime. At least they are usually interesting.
I think my hatred of phones is down to the shrill and deafening ring at Die Fuhrer's. Oh, and the fact that my maternal unit calls 20 gazillion times a day. Who needs to call someone that many times?
Okay, I'm grumpy and in pain and cannot get through to Dr T.
Update: Managed to get through and now have an appointment this afternoon with Dr T. Hoo-bloody-ray. 5:20 it is, and damn, I hope she has some ideas that involve pain relief.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 09:03 BST, by Kenny
17th June 2007
Okay, I'm bored
I'm bored so I'm blogging nonsense.
I have to be somewhere but I cannot be arsed thanks to the legs. Instead I'm trawling t'interweb.
I just love this shot of Bryony. Tell me she is not just lovely. She looks like a very young Madonna.
Sorry Bryony!
While I'm on the subject of lovely, have you watched Angela's Eyes? I forget the name of the actress -- Abigail Spencer?. It's a bit tacky but to be able to frame a TV show around an actress's eyes is inspired, because they really are stunning. A lot like Nski's. (Cue Kenny to drop back into manic depression). That said, as soon as the DVD comes out, I'll be on it like a shot.
Expect more random crap later.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 09:49 BST, by Kenny
While I'm here...
Susanna Reid really knows how to wear make-up. Watching Breakfast this morning, I noticed how well she applies eye-liner. Back in the folly of my youth, I used to nick my mate's sister's to goth myself up. But I'd really overdo it (a la Marc Almond). Susanna Reid's make-up is such that she finishes her eye-liner about a quarter of the way round the bottom of her eyes and it makes her look gorgeous. Probably not done by her, but all the same...
Okay. This sounds gay. It's not. I'm just observant.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 09:17 BST, by Kenny
Sunday, bloody Sunday
The usual ritual for a Sunday is that Die Fuhrer and I visit the parental units' abode for Sunday lunch. All very civilized. Quite frankly, I am not in the mood today. I have too much on my mind and too little working below knee height.
It being the Sabbath and all, the BBC have chosen to discuss how much religious education (and diversity thereof) that children should have. When I was at school and did RE, we covered every religion known to man. I remember being sat thinking "all very interesting, but utter bollocks all the same". If anyone ever tried to indoctrinate my kids into the cult that is religion, I would shoot them. The answer to the RE question is to completely drop it from the curriculum. Hell, and this is sweet coming from me if you know me, teach them social science -- I hate to quote Depeche Mode but "people are people". Tolerance is not a religious issue.
Die Fuhrer was raised as a Catholic. She rebelled as soon as she was old enough to think. It annoyed her family to death. I doff my cap in her direction. To this day, she will not even entertain religion. I suspect I have a large collection of her genes. I despise it in any form. The thought that there is an Almighty (or several) is utterly ludicrous. You came from nowhere and that is where you go back to. No magic there. So why the God argument? What exactly does it add?
Granted, certain tennets of behaviour that are advocated by Christianism in the form of commandments serve as good rules, but really, do we need to put these down to God? They're common sense and common courtesy. In fact they're called being taught to be polite -- you shouldn't even need to be taught. If you're a half-decent human being, you'd instinctively know how to be polite.
I know I'm contradicting myself by preaching tolerance yet slamming religion. There are just some things that drive you as mad as a hatter.
I declare myself the world's most faithful atheist.
Stan will understand.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 08:53 BST, by Kenny
16th June 2007
Disaster
Get this -- I have gone off meat. I never thought this day would happen. Since I left home at 18, I have lived on steak, bacon and ham. Now I'm eating vegiburgers with leeks. Oh well.
My "dinner" at the moment is fruit. I have cherries, strawberries, pineapple, banana, blueberries, plums and nectarines. I used to eat copious amounts of ham, cheese and bread but the lust has gone. I can still eat cheese on toast but it kind of makes me yack if I'm overfaced.
I hope I'm not developing into a fruitarian, or a fruit for that matter.
Speaking of which...
The parental units just visited me. We were discussing George Michael (because the girl in the butcher's went to see him last night) -- spit. I spotted him being gay as soon as I was sixteen -- Nski didn't get it until he came out. It was about as obvious as Oscar Wilde.
I have to say though, Bryony has done it again. I love her writing so much. She's a constant entertainment. Good luck with the giving up the fags love. I know she visits every now and again and I'm honoured.
Bloody hell -- I'm ranting again. Suppose it's the pain!
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 12:58 BST, by Kenny
Nightmares
Why am I awake at this time on a Saturday morning? Two reasons -- one is that I just cannot get over the Nski factor (I sat and wept like a child last night) -- it plays so heavily on my mind that I dream about it on a nightly basis.
The other is that I'm in excrutiating pain in the leg and foot department and am still not allowed painkillers.
Rich pagaent or what?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 05:39 BST, by Kenny
15th June 2007
Ooh -- flowers!
I've been meaning to blog this for a while. Die Fuhrer has the most beautiful poppies going on. They are taller than I am. They must be 6'3". There's nothing makes me smile more than a gorgeous flower. These things are the most beautiful shade of pink you have ever seen. If my camera worked I'd take a picture. They really are a joy to look at, and apart from gazanias, my very favorite flower.
The only negative I take from them is Flanders Fields.
My one joy in life at the moment is gardens. I've always been green-fingered -- more potted than ground. As I wrote a few days ago, my parents' garden is utterly sublime. They put so much effort into it.
There's a park down the road towards Ashton that is a joy all year round. Whatever rates we pay to Wigan Council are worth it. When I was a kid, I used to go down there with my grandfather. He loved his flowers too. He used to rave about that park. It is utterly gorgeous.
Going nowhere with this -- just raving about how beautiful flowers are -- end of.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 13:10 BST, by Kenny
Sorry state of affairs
How embrassing is this?
My parents had to come up to make sure I didn't fall while bathing. My mother sat in the bathroom with me while I bathed. I'm sure there's nothing she hasn't seen before but still...I'm 38 -- unless you're Angelina Jolie, I don't want to exhibit my bits.
Thankfully Dr T has written to K to escalate my case. These two women really are angels. I actually wanted to go see her today but she must be on a course or doing hospital duty. I'm sure the others at the surgery are perfectly competent but I've got an attachment to this gal now. She's so sweet, and feckin' clever. They had better not let her go at the end of her locum tenure or I'll be going totally postal. Monday will do -- just a weekend to get through.
The thing that I am worried about is that I'll soon be on statutory sick pay which is the equivalent of bog-all. On the one hand it means that I'll not be able to finance Nski's venomous filing for divorce -- I am not financing an act of hate against me. On the downside, I'll be broke. Equilibrium I guess. Comme ci, comme ca.
Enough. Lunch time.
Oh, before I go, have I ever mentioned how much I love the Northern Irish accent? Probably not. Well I have now.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 12:10 BST, by Kenny
14th June 2007
Another spat
I'm not going to talk about Nski's medical condition, but I am going to say that she has filed for divorce. I cannot describe how much that hit me. It about knocked me out.
I know I said I wouldn't talk about her again, but this floored me.
When someone you love so much does something like this, it really does knock you sideways. I'm cramped, as well as crumpled. The big C together with rejection is just unthinkable. To be honest, I'm not sure I believe her now. This may be a contest. She might be be guilting me. I would never wish C on anyone; I just hope she has the strength to get through this, if it is true.
You would not believe the texts we have exchanged. For a couple who were so in love, this is obscene. Then again, I wasn't the one who cheated.
But we're at where we are at, so I have to live through it. I wish it was not this way. I'm kiffing it slowly but surely thanks to the drink and she's going for the C. Feckin' horror movie. Picture Boris Karloff and double it. That's where she and I are. We're both dieing slowly. I just wish we could do it together rather than arguing via text messages.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 12:57 BST, by Kenny
She's done it again
Even more brilliant than usual.
Tell me you are not completly in love with this woman. I am. She writes just like Nski does. Sarcasm, visualism, observation -- need I continue?
Come on peeps, this lady is gold-dust.
It's 5:30am on a Thursday and I feel like shit. It doesn't get much worse than this, but it makes me smile.
Oh well.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 05:29 BST, by Kenny
13th June 2007
More smirking
There are times when I nip out for a cig and absolutely gag. I'm talking wretching from the bottom of your soul. You feel like you are going to puke but cannot. Some bile, some phlegm. Very unpleasant. It's the best motivator for giving up possible, yet I persist because I am scared to death of not having my nicotine rush. The thing is that I smoke the weakest cigs known to man. My body is revolting -- in a literal and figurative sense.
I'm sure that my circulation is rubbish thanks to the cigs, which is why my legs are buggered. Kids, never ever pick up a cigarette -- they really are killers. They reel you in and then spit you out dead. If your lungs don't get you, something else will.
Gah, I'm in too much pain to continue. And I stink of Thiamin. I need to try and get my sorry ass up the stairs for a bath to try and and rid myself of the rancid smell of the damned stuff.
Meanwhile, Nski and I have been spatting again. I hate this. I have promised her that I will not mention her again on here though. So that is that is the last you will hear of her from me. I know she has a blog somewhere but she's not telling me where.
Now I need to go and vomit while smoking one of Silk Cut Silver's finest. And then it's the crossword.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 12:02 BST, by Kenny
12th June 2007
Smirking
Bryony is giving up smoking. Her 12 years of addiction is nowhere near my 22 years. I can't even contemplate how much cash I have wasted or the impact it has had on my health -- contemptable.
The nice part, though, is her honesty.
Yesterday, my first day, was fine because I was hung over and slept for much of it, thus killing off any cravings.
As much as I like a good booze, I would never admit to being hung over on my blog, let alone a professional website. Oh okay, having set the precedent, I'll admit that I'm a bit fragile this morning. I'm not allowed pain-killers so I have been "self-medicating". Whatever gets you through the night and all that...
In other world-shattering news, there's a jazz festival in Wigan in a few weeks time. How cool is that? Subject to mobility, I will be there. The maternal unit hates jazz -- I have no idea why -- I adore it. Sam Payne who is over to the left has so much jazz in her that it makes my head spin. It's Fiona Apple all over again, and again. Truly peachy.
Why is it that I spend most of my life idolising people? Maybe I feel inadequate. Freud would have a field-day with this.
Final thing -- three venemous texts from Nski overnight. Just what you want when you're feeling like shite. I can understand it though. She's suffering. I have offered to take out a loan to pay for her treatment but she's kind of rebutted me. Not exactly the most gracious act, but I can see where she is coming from because I know her better than anyone in the world.
It's sad that we're both going down the proverbial shitter at the same time. Sad, but we lived fast. I'm just worrying about the kids now.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 09:57 BST, by Kenny
11th June 2007
Oh no
I always wanted to go gray rather than bald. Now it has happened, I'm not so chuffed. My beard has grey hairs all over it, together with ginger. Not cool.
I'm getting old and decaying by the day. As I say, not cool.
While my 30 year-old wife is dying, I am sat here worrying about being gray and the fact that I am getting old. How selfish is that? It's criminal. I feel like shit and I feel like shit because I want her on the earth rather than in it. She's bloody gorgeous. You will never meet a brighter person. I guess I have overdone the love factor. She's just on my mind.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 12:04 BST, by Kenny
My daily dose of Dr T
I'm off down to see Dr T again this afternoon, at the insistance of the maternal unit. I fail to see what exactly this trip will achieve but I'll do it just to keep the peace. Xrays won't be there for decades. I suspect that mater just wants to meet this doctor I rave about.
I'm not moaning at all because Dr T is gorgeous and it is a pleasure to have someone so kind in charge of your health.
The FF works in biological matters and I trust her judgement more than I would most doctors. She's very modest though and gave me a bit of a lecture that she is not a doctor. No matter FF, I still hold faith in your opinion.
I've still not got my head around the big C thing with Nski. It's like having your guts pulled out with pliers. No matter how hostile we have been recently, I'll not stop feeling for her. She's the mother of my kids and we had some fantastic times together.
Yikes. It's all medicine at the moment isn't it?
Oh, death and misery as well.
Thiamin still stinks like goat-crap though.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 10:13 BST, by Kenny
10th June 2007
The Flip-flop returns
My SIL and my brother have been down with sproggo. She's adorable, with the exception that she looks like my brother to a tee.
The FF is a joy to be around. I sat and chatted with her for ages about all sorts of things. I just love her to pieces -- she's possibly the brightest person I know. You want to see her with El Sproggo -- she is a complete natural. She sat singing songs at the baby that I haven't heard in years. So lovely. So, so sweet.
I've torn myself up all day as I've tried to get my head around the big C with Nski. It's just awful. I've cried, I've vomitted. I've kicked the damned floor. We've spent an awful lot of time texting each other but we've not agreed, which is horrendous.
Nski -- I'm off to the embassy ASAP so I can come and see you.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 19:52 BST, by Kenny
Gutted
While I'm sat here feeling sorry for myself, there is something far more serious going on. Nski has the big C and it just about pulled me into bits. I crumpled. The woman I love is on her way out. That said, her mom was given 6 months nearly 15 years ago and is still around bitching so maybe Nski can do the same.
She's angry at me, like everything is my fault. I can understand that. If I'd been given a diagnosis like hers, I think I would be mad too. We were always too interdependent and being apart has just made us blame each other for everything. It really is bloody criminal how life treats some people; Nski is nothing more than a Goddess. She makes Marilyn look ordinary. And she has three times the charisma. Those of you who read her blog will know that. An absolutely brilliant mind.
I was meant to be going seeing my niece today, but that news has kicked me hard. Also, Nski's attitude to me kicked me even harder -- Nski, not everything in the world is my fault. So I'm going nowhere.
In fact, I'm off back to bed. There's only so much you can take.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 06:30 BST, by Kenny
8th June 2007
Ouch
I've just been radiated. Xrays.
It's all to do with this lumbar scoliosis gubbins and the fact that walking 100 yards is a bastard.
I asked the tech whether I could have a copy of the images or not and he refused. I got kind of annoyed. I have more than enough knowledge to look at an Xray image and tell you what is wrong. If this is me, I'd like to see it. Nowadays Xray images are available in seconds -- it's all digital. But the response that I got is that it will be 2-3 weeks before my GP sees them. How crap is that? You have an image -- you email it and voila, image at your fingertips. So why 2-3 weeks? That is pants.
I bet Dr T would be furious. I'm sat here wondering whether paying some cash might ease the problem. I'd be quite willing to pitch up the cash. I want the only GP I trust whole-heartedly to see them ASAP. Actually, I want to see them because I'm au fait with imaging.
Between Dr T and I, we can fix this.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 12:49 BST, by Kenny
7th June 2007
She's done it again
Go here and tell me that Bryony is not a female version of me. Maybe a better version of me. Those who can spot that reference are entitled to a weekend in The People's Republic of Wigan. Great prize, I know.
A bientot. I'm hitting the sack again. Well, the sofa anyway.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 11:52 BST, by Kenny
6th June 2007
I really am in love
I just laid down to rest the "svine feet" and my cell phone went. I kinda cursed 'cos I hate phones and I thought it might be B bleating for forgiveness and yet another loan donation, but thankfully it wasn't.
It was K. She just called to see how I went on with the neurologist. She has no professional obligation to do that at all. That is all heart and it really touched me. It just shows how suited she is to her profession -- total carer.
Thanks K. Diamond is not the word. You're an absolute peach. In fact, once the "svine feet" and you know what are sorted, I'm taking you out to dinner.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 14:51 BST, by Kenny
Kill Clouseau
I've been on a bit of a Pink Panther kick recently. Utter class.
"Rum serveese. Zer is a beautiful woman in my bed and a dead man in my bass."
The paternal unit had a good comedy moment the other day. He was moaning about a cobweb and a fly in the conservatory.
Enter Kenny: "Rum serveese. Zer is a fly in my conservatory and a cobweb on ze ruff".
My parents absolutely cracked up laughing. You know what? Occasionally I can entertain, albeit pathetically.
Also, rather than shout "you feckers" at my feet, which Die Fuhrer would not tolerate, I have taken to shouting "svine feet" in a Peter Sellers accent. It's not much but it makes my family laugh, so it is no bad thing.
Humor is better than any drug. If you can laugh, no matter what your physical condition, you're still alive. Endorphins are wonderful things.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 11:42 BST, by Kenny
Finally...
Finally I have found some news to get stuck into. In fact today is a positive feast.
BBC Breakfast had a ten minute slot on pigs painting. FFS. They were comparing the "art" to Picasso and Jackson Pollock. Jackson Pollock I can understand -- that was pig-shit too. But comparing this to Picasso? Un-bloody-believable. Heathens.
Why is it that the BBC have a compulsion to have a token "animal story" each day? If it's not pigs painting, it's a cat up a tree or some such other nonsense. I'd love to know where they get their market research that says that viewers want to hear about ferrets up trouser legs. Whatever research company it is should be put into receivership immediately and presented with a golden poodle for their troubles. Idiots.
Next one up -- the Olympic logo footage. A record 10 epileptic fits have been reported. 10 out of 60 million. Wow. This is a national catasrophe. We should have a day of mourning. In fact, we should exhume Diana to make sure it wasn't her behind the design. I'd advocate the public crucifixion of Mick Hucknall myself. It may be a crap logo, but please...
Oh God. I have a new favorite. "Extra police officers are to patrol the streets of Brighton on nights when there is a full moon." -- the link is here. Not only does crime increase when there is a full moon, but also on payday. What are they going to do? Look for wolvine characteristics?
"Oi, Fido, I arrest you for it being a full moon."
"Excuse me sir, do you get paid weekly or monthly? And when did you last commit the crime of being paid? Oh, I see, a repeat offender. You're nicked matey."
We live in a bizarre world. Thankfully some of it is hilarious.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 08:55 BST, by Kenny
5th June 2007
A tad disappointing with a smidgin' of light
K was her usual wonderful self. I haven't shaved in forever due to not being unable to get upstairs and the first thing she said was "it really suits you" -- cue melt. She just understands me without me having to elaborate -- I guess she must think along similar lines. She's a slightly older version of Dr T but still younger than me and a tad more tactile. Two hugs before I left today. I'd be begging her for her hand in marriage if it were not for the fact that there is a slight scouse twinge to her voice. Oh, and she has a boyfriend too. Sorry K. :) That was crude! [ed - I think she's started reading this]
My neurologist brought forward my appointment (very conveniently) to just after I had seen K. I'm not going to publicise the results -- well not until after I have had my Xray and seen Dr T again. I'm not sure I agree with the neurologist -- that may sound a tad arrogant but I know my own body better than he does.
Where will it all end? Yup. Death and misery. ;)
Seriously though, I am starting to think that the only doctor in the world that really knows their stuff is Dr T. This girl is gold dust. She doesn't just whip out the prescription pad as you enter the room, and she probably saved me an awful lot of pain by vetoing her senior colleague and telling me to stop taking what he prescribed. All she needs is some specs and I'd be down on one knee armed with a cheap diamond.
The great thing, as I said earlier, is that K and Dr T are in regular contact. K mentioned that she had called Dr T last week to check up on what her thoughts were. I bet within a few weeks, they'll be knocking 'em back in a Wigan wine-bar (if such a beast exists) and chewing the fat like nothing on earth. That warms my proverbial cockles -- they are both great professionals and they really should be mates.
Come to think of it, K might have mentioned El Bloggo to Dr T, in which case I need to say "you are both pearls in a sea of plankton". Love ya mi'dears and thanks for the help.
In other news, Nski and I are having another email spat. Lordy, I hate these. I try to be as friendly and un-antagonising as possible. It appears she is intent on destroying our marriage. How can my reports on doctors' opinions be considered manipulation of her? I'd love to post our latest email trail but I am not a bastard so would never do it. Apparently she has a new blog somewhere -- she has the advantage over me there in that she knows my URL but I don't know hers -- very fair, not. If she actually read mine, she would appreciate how much I love and miss her.
Life's a bit rubbish innit? Legs falling off, wheelchair to my right, wife on the war trail. Yup. I repeat: death and misery. Hopefully not too quickly.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 19:40 BST, by Kenny
Redirect
I've just been serious over at Stan's.
And I have bloody hay-fever. Life's a bitch. You marry one, you divorce one and then you suffer for years with the next one.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 12:30 BST, by Kenny
A day of misery/redemption
My legs are even worse this morning so my motivation for doing anything other than blogging and wheeling to the back door for a smoke is sub-zero.
Unfortunately, I have two medical appointments today. They are both in Wigan. One at 3:30 and one at 19:00 (isn't that strange?). It's a bit of a royal pain in the arse, because what am I going to do for probably 2.5 hours sat in a wheelchair with nothing to do? There's an obvious answer but I'm not rolling up to my neurologist bevied.
Belay that. The paternal unit has very kindly offered to ferry me back and forth twice. Otherwise, I could have been looking at the wrong end of £40 in taxi fares.
I just want to get back on the sofa and sleep really but deeds must when there's a guy wandering around the universe calling you a jerk (Hitch-hikers anyone?). Another bloody "bed-bath" (thankfully performed by me) is imminent.
When I'm in this kind of mood, I generally look for some news to take the proverbial Michael out of, but I haven't found any on the BBC website. Guess I'll try CNN.
More later after I retrieve myself from up my own jacksy. Poor me.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 11:04 BST, by Kenny
4th June 2007
Random addendum
You don't even want to know what the results of my "test" were this morning. It grosses me out even thinking about it.
One very sweet thing though -- my Doc, Dr T wandered through the surgery while I was waiting to see the nurse. As everyone knows, my real name is A. What you might not know is that my first name is David. Anyone in an official capacity uses David. Dr T smiled and said "Hi A" -- I have no idea how she knows that. I about fell through the seat in astonishment and, okay, a little lust. She is adorable and I will bloody petition for her to stay after the end of her locum tenure. I am not giving up the best GP I have ever had without a battle.
Oh, another thing -- I've been meaning to say this for weeks, but Thiamin (B1)is the foulest smelling stuff ever. Hell must be paved in it. It's like sulphur on steroids. Never open it if you have just eaten. And if you want to stop yourself eating, open it before. I have to take 3 of the blighters every day so I just reek of the stuff so much that I make myself feel sick. On top of that, I have another B complex to take. I must smell like Tetley's Brewery mixed with Marmite. Gross.
Stan has recommended that I move in with either Bryony or Kate Silverton to convalesce. I thought long and hard about this, then wheeled myself out to the back garden for a smoke and contemplated further. As I was looking at my smoke I thought "Hmmmm, Bryony smokes and drinks -- Kate Silverton does triathlons". The logical corollary to that is that Kate probably eats tofu and salad and all that nasty healthy stuff (ref my Shepherd's pie recipe where cream, butter and lamb feature extensively), and drinks an occasional shandy. Not my kind of girl. I'll settle in with Bryony, even if she is a Southerner who lives darn Sarf -- at least we could have a Shepherd's pie, a smoke and a bottle'o'booze. Then do some aerobics or some such. :)
Enough rambling -- I have a wheelchair to exercise.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 14:10 BST, by Kenny
The Return of the Pink Panther (aka Kenny)
Apologies for the silence again. I'm currently wheelchair bound so have spent several days downstairs at my parents' house sans internet connection which meant that I didn't get the email that said the domain registration was about to expire. A matress in the front room because they have a downstairs bog. How exasperating is that?
Fortunately, I have only one more day to wait before I see the neurologist. My cousin A is a top lass who is a nurse at one of the local hospitals. She rates the consultant I am due to see as A+. I'll take her word -- she knows her stuff.
The frustrating thing about this is that what started off as being numb feet, spread to the lower legs and then upwards. I'm now down to the point that I pretty much cannot feel anything below the waist. Yes, smart-arses, including my gubbins that has not been used in decades. Even Marge Helgenburger did not trip a drop of adrenalin into me so you know it's bad. Pauley Pirette caused a hint of a sensation but since then it's been all bland!
The good thing is that I have had the chance to sit out in the parental garden and it is literally gorgeous. I wish my bloody camera worked because this thing should be nominated for an award. I'm toying with buying one of these Lumina cameras with 10x optical zoom, just so I can take some pictures of it. (Note to self -- check bank imbalance before doing so).
What else? Well...
Nski and I are vaguely on speaking terms. We exchanged some texts late last night. There was no "give" on the position but at least my pleading was acknowledged. As much as I have been bitter towards her for her actions, I still deeply, deeply want her back (silly me!).
And yes, I know, I have not read anyone's blog for a few days -- I'll get around to it. Thank you all for your kind comments -- it cheers me no end.
I'd do more but it's time to have my little "bowl of water" bath prior to hitting the doctors again. So tiresome. So frustrating. But I can do wheelies in the chair -- must avoid any further head injuries though!
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 07:57 BST, by Kenny
1st June 2007
Editorial
I've just deleted a bunch of comments from Nski. She may have a fair point in that I do drink a little too much but she gets her feckin' cash. And to be fair, that is all she cares about. At least I have a bloody job when my feet work. She sits on her arse and waits for the money from me.
This is going to be bitter. I so loved her and now I wish I had never met her.
Nski, I will call you but only when the hostility is on hold. It's not good for either of us. You are the one who is breaking up our family -- I tried to tread water to get us back together. And, quite frankly, I am very much the same man you married. Maybe a bit more jaded because of your unfaithfulness.
BTW, thanks Bryony -- that was a very sweet email. First smile I have had in days.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 06:38 BST, by Kenny