Friday, 12 February 2010

Teaser Revealed: Part 4 The Final Outcome

At the end of Part 3  Circus Workshop I had dislocated my shoulder again and had phoned a taxi.

While we wait for the taxi, those who have missed any of the story can catch up:

Part 1  Snowboarding
Part 2  Mattress
Part 3  Circus Workshop

The taxi is almost here but there’s one more point I should make now – there are no more accidents.  This post brings the story to its conclusion.

The taxi is at the door. I’m practised now.  Ease myself into the taxi. “A&E at the Royal please”.

I sat back for the journey which has never been bumpier.  I have never felt pain like this; the August sun was incredibly painful – as though floodlights were set up in the taxi. 

“Can you stop, I’m going to be sick”

Never came to that.  Taxi stopped, I alight – great word that, shoulder popped in, pain gone. Thank fuck!

I want to break out of my story here because I need to recognise that, despite the terrible pain, I was lucky, very lucky.  I knew that my pain was transient, its cause was not serious, my life was not threatened.  I cannot imagine how difficult it is to suffer pain while knowing or suspecting that one’s life is threatened.  I cannot imagine how difficult it is to know one’s life is threatened when there is no pain. 

I had pain but was lucky!

The visit to A&E was quick.  I knew the score: sling, visit out-patient clinic on Wednesday.  All familiar to me now.

Off I toddled, taxi home and I was back in my old routine: no bed but sleep on the settee.  I couldn’t have anyone bump me.

A few more days, another X-ray and I’d be left for a few weeks before going back again but the few days weren’t normal.  My shoulder felt – I don’t know – different.

The days passed and I reached the clinic.

“Mr Carr! Can you go to the X-ray and then come back here when you’re finished.”

I had no doubt, no concerns.  This was my third separate injury and probably my 7th visit.

“Mr Carr!”  Once more in to see the consultant.

I didn’t get the words I had expected. “Mr Carr”, he said, “I want you to come into hospital this afternoon.  Your shoulder is in a mess, quite a complex job.  I’ll operate on Thursday!”

“Bbbut we’ve got a birthday party on Friday.”

“There will be others.”

So much for man who thought he knew the score!  Christ, did I have pyjamas that could be seen outside!  Fuck!

Don’t worry I’m not going through my entire hospital stay – just a few – snippets.   I had made a terrible mess of shoulder: the joint was free to move in and out; there’s no point trying to explain.  Basically my shoulder was fucked and had to be stripped back to the bone and then have everything re-attached and tightened to an extreme.

Surgery was a success but at one of the follow-up visits the consultant looked at an X-ray and said that one of the screws used to attach A to B – well he didn’t say A to B, I assume he knew but I can’t remember – is coming loose.

Now we come to the end of the story and I can confirm what you all knew already:


Sorry that it has taken so long to reach this point but this is my only claim to fame.


  1. Really sorry for all the pain you had to endure with such stoicism. But, if it has given you your humouristic spirit, we (your readers) have gained much from your multiple adventures. Hope the screw has decided to settle for a while. Best wishes. Cheers!

  2. All the best people have a screw loose, as I'm sure Dr Scott will confirm ;-)

  3. Ruth The difference is that I am aware but Dr Scott, as you prefer to call him, does not. :)

  4. OK. First point: Playing golf with artificial mechanical aids inside you is cheating. End of story. I win whatever the score.

    2nd: It is Ruth who has the loose screws. They are in her ankle. Something to do with a ballet accident involving fly-by-wire, I think, the poor young lass (or old bird, come to think of it).

    Finally. Dr Scott has no loose screws at all. He has however lost his marbles, and he used to love them as a lad.