Guilty Pleasures.

Go on admit it! You have a whole raft of guilty pleasures hidden away - things that you adore in secret. Pleasures that you indulge in whenever you get the chance but wouldn't admit to anyone!


I do. Lets see...


I like the Xfactor! I can't believe Austin got knocked out so early! What I really like, what amazes me every year is that the contestants, love 'em or loathe 'em are singing live. Live!

How many of your so called superstars can actually do that? I've heard old Madge live and trust me it wasn't good. I even picked up my phone last year and voted for Leona Lewis!


I'd kill for Jaffa cakes! In order to beat my daughter to them I hide the packet in my desk. I know I'm a terrible father!


I'm a bit of a sucker for romantic comedies... Sleepless in Seattle... Love Actually... Four Weddings... you know that sort of thing!


ABBA! I know... I am truly ashamed... but there is something, I don't know... happy about their music that always gets to me and I end up, heaven forbid, singing along! This is not something that any other living human being should experience... me singing... Yuck!


What else... Hmmm... I'd love to learn to dance.... say the Salsa... or even a bit of ballroom! I think it would be really neat when you go out with your loved one to be able to just get up and dance simply for the fun of it!


Talking of dancing I suppose I should add the film 'Dirty Dancing' to my list of guilty pleasures.
If I could get half the reaction from women that He gets when he looks in her eyes like that then I'd die a happy man... Come on! You know what I mean!


And one final one. One that I have just discovered after returning to work last Friday.
I actually like the people I work with and I've missed them.


But, of course, if you mention any of these to anyone I'll deny them totally and completely!
I've got my reputation to think of after all!

The things they don't tell you...

In no particular order...

1 - Painkillers in high doses cause constipation

I've been chewing on something like 4000mg of paracetamol and 240mg of Codeine Phosphate

a day since the operation so no wonder my innards have been somewhat quiet recently;

quiet... they've been bloody comatose!

So now I'm off to the Docs to get something to free things up... if you get my drift.

2 - Having a catheter removed can be painful...

Nurse Gladys distinctly said it wouldn't hurt. OK I accept that my definition of pain may differ
to some extent from hers but trust me that made my eyes water...

3 - Having the drains removed can be VERY painful...

I had two tubes inserted just above the wound site - they are put there to drain blood / fluid
from the wound and this helps to reduce bruising... so far so good.

Two nurses came round to remove the drain. It was a bit like 'Good cop, Bad cop...'

"Ok Robin you wont feel a thing..." Nurse Crippen says as she's preparing the swabs and trays
and whatever instruments of pain she enjoys using.

Nurse Alice leans over and whispers confidentially "It can hurt sometimes... especially when
She does it...

Nurse Alice was right... That was a real toe curler!

4 - Real men don't look good in stockings

Look at the evidence...

I mean.... look at it... I have one elephant sized leg and one wimpy little leg. I look like a reject from the Rocky Horror Show! (there is a full length shot of me and my stockings but it's just too horrible to publish here! Private viewings can be arranged if required...)

I rest my case...

5 - Morphine makes you giggle

Yes of course it does... everyone knows that... The liquid Morphine that I had the Saturday
after the op didn't take any pain away... But who cares! It's Sooooooo funny! Ha ha! He he!

Does it affect everyone like this?

6 - Simple things please simple minds...

I thought this was highly appropriate...

Some people didn't get it?

7 - Laxatives in the right doses can have the desired effect.

Sorry got to go...

Me and My Arrow...

You may have gathered from previous posts that I am something of a gadget freak. I like technology. I appreciate how sometimes man invents a new technology just because he can and then sets about finding a way to use it in practical everyday ways. I like the way he keeps trying and trying until the world finally gets it. And I particularly like the way he solves problems using innovative technology.

Imagine then how my gadget loving brain was going to solve one of my real worries over this operation. I'm having a hip replacement. My right hip to be precise. Not my left hip. That was my concern.

What happens if they do the wrong one? How can I be sure that they'll do the right one - I mean the correct one?

I decided first off that I could encase my good leg in a metal jacket locked with a combination that only I know... Hmmm... probably a bit over ambitious for a man with my DIY track record. How about an alarm system wired to my good leg... Mmmmm me and electricity? I think I'll pass on that one too! No I need something simple... something foolproof... something that even the consultant couldn't miss...

Well... It is the NHS you know...

A message from K2 basecamp...

K2, the mountain, peaks at 8,611 metres above sea level.

The distance from K2 to the bathroom in Tye Green Ward is about fifty feet. Of course this particular K2 is not the mountain. It's my hospital bed. I think you'd probably figured something along those lines already...

I'm out of bed; It's day two according to the NHS way of counting... so it's actually day four.

I'm sitting in my chair listening to 'two knees' telling a story about using a bedpan (these are very exciting times.) The part of the story where he slides off and sends the contents flying is actually quite amusing!

However, a part of my brain has already latched onto this situation and has figured that my chances of reaching the lavvy unaided in time are pretty remote and that if nature calls unexpectedly I am, to use the vernacular, up s*&^ creek without a paddle.

I could just give in, I suppose, and ask for a bedpan when the need arises - but hey! Where's the story in that?

I know this is dumb but this is the kind of thing that motivates me. I will not and cannot contemplate the indignity of having to use a bedpan - I know! I said it was dumb but there is no way as long as there is strength in me that I am not going to the loo under my own steam!

Physio are due to see me in a couple of hours - they'll get me to stand using a frame and take a few steps. Yeah right!

I ask the nurse to pass me the walking frame - she's busy and doesn't think twice. I haul myself up and by the time physio arrive I'm smiling again - I've been to the loo and back again twice - not to do anything but just to know I can do it.

After she has taught me to stand and take a few steps she says that I look tired.

I am.

But I'm fired up as well - I know I'm on my way back now.

From the Diary of a Madman...

I've had a bit of a nap. The op seems like hours ago and now I start to examine the damage.
I've got tubes coming out of me in all directions and from all sorts of places.
I've got saline and morphine drips going into my left arm and there are two drain tubes coming out of my right hip - these disappear, at least from my restricted point of view, under the bed and into the floor, the tubes carrying on underground for miles until they connect with still more tubes from hundreds more patients eventually poring into a massive steaming subterranean cauldron...

What? Sorry - don't know what happened there... Ahem...

Where was I? Oh yes - So my left hand starts to explore and finds another tube. I give it a tug and wince as the ball of fire travels up my todger, past the crown jewels and explodes somewhere close to what I guess is my bladder!
"Ah! That'll be the catheter then!" I giggle slightly.

The nurse comes round and picks up the catheter tube - she is staring intently at it. I smile sweetly and try desperately not to pee... And I giggle again. I think this is very funny. She stomps off.

Opposite me 'two knees' is sitting on his bed with his legs up - he has a large blue elastic band that stretches round both feet and he is pulling on it like a catapult.
"On me 'ed Son" I say out loud - everyone stops and looks at me - there are now hundreds of people in the ward most of whom I know. My giggling breaks free again and turns rapidly into
hysterics, uncontrollable waves of side splitting laughter - however I am the only one laughing. Everyone else has gathered around my bed and is staring menacingly at me... They start to chant "Pull it out... Pull it out..."

I'm still giggling as everything goes black again...

Don't you just hate it when dreams end like that?

Don't blink or you'll miss it!

I've been pursuing this operation for years. It's been month's in the planning. Countless weeks of preparation. I've made hundreds of phone calls over the years, sent dozens of emails - Good Lord! I've even used one of those long pointy things called pens to write real letters to real people. Over time I must have seen a dozen or so different Consultants all over the country. I've watched videos of the op - read books, articles - I've even considered doing it myself! It has, to say the least, been prominent in my life for quite sometime.

Today is OP day... And here I am sitting in bed on my ward - I've just sent a text message to Lin to say I'm OK, that the op is done and all is well... and yet I feel robbed...

Let me explain:

I was expecting Holby City or for those old enough to remember - Emergency Ward 10. I wanted dashing surgeons and glamorous nurses, flashing lights and drama - I wanted to see the mighty machines that were going to keep me alive throughout my ordeal - to see tubes going everywhere carrying liquids of many colours and shiny instruments ready to cut into my flesh...

What I got was this...

I'm lying on a trolley surrounded by three guys in silly hats and even sillier glasses. One leans over and says something like "We're just going to lower the back down Robin and then we can give you something to help you sleep..."
I blink...
The guy in the funny hat has turned into a smiling nurse in a funny hat.
"Hello Robin... All done now!"

I lift my head
"You're kidding me... that can't possibly be it..."

I blink again and I'm back on my ward... game over... and bugger me I missed it!
I don't even feel groggy.

So if you want to know what it's like to have an operation these days I'm afraid I'm not the man to ask - haven't a clue... not the foggiest. I just blinked and that was it.

Admit One:

I feel like a spare part at a wedding... a tiny component that has just been delivered to the factory, about to be devoured by the merciless machine. It's Wednesday; the day of my admission to hospital for a complex total hip replacement. I know there are people having bigger ops, I know that in the scheme of things this is pretty routine. The staff in the Admissions Unit are very helpful, and cheerful. But they're obviously very busy. There's a lot us coming in today and we've all got to be processed. There are forms to be filled in and signed, details to be checked, patients bags have to be collected and taken to wards, patients too have to be dispatched to the correct places. It's very efficient. Very machine like. Very production line... new batch in... chug... chug... chug... My head is in a whirl. I feel for a moment that I want to baulk against it, to rebel.
"Stop! Hang on... What's going to happen to me..."
But the production line rolls on. I know that some of the staff have already spoken to me - I couldn't tell you what they said to me. I have this terrible feeling of dread as someone calls out my name. Even though Lin is beside me I feel very alone. It's my turn to be taken to my ward.
This is it then.

I don't know how we got to the ward or which way we went - it was a complete blur.
But here I am sat by my bed in my pyjamas; Lin has just left and if the truth were to be told I am absolutely terrified. I don't much feel like being funny. I'm writing this using good old pen and paper and I'm trying to drag my thoughts to a nicer place. I look around the ward. There's an older guy in the corner who had his op this morning. He's sitting up chatting to a nurse whilst she checks his blood pressure. She takes her time. She listens to him, smiles and chats gently away to him.
Opposite there's a chap who had both knees replaced just three days ago - he's debating the current state of the economy with a nurse and an auxiliary - he's animated and clearly in full flow. They are trying to get him back into bed... Everybody is smiling.

I look at the scene in front of me and at last I know I'll be OK. How could I not be. It is the NHS you know.