You will probably be aware that there’s not much to blog about as there has been no building work. Actually that is not quite true as we have had some major structural repair. The LGB has had his hip replacement. That’s pretty major. Strange isn't it how building or more precisely property blurb can also describe those of us in our dotage. In need of structural repair – I’ve just covered that one with the LGB. Would benefit from modernising – we all get stuck in a rut and could do with a little help. Would be enhanced by an extension – yes, I’d certainly be enhanced with a 38FF extension; I don’t suppose the LGB would complain either. Lovingly restored - has a sugar Daddy to pay for all the cosmetic surgery. You get my drift.
Whilst the LGB was undergoing structural repair I stayed with him in the hospital the first night. Twenty eight euros for bed breakfast and an evening meal seemed too good a bargain to turn down, especially in a city and a private hospital to boot. Not so! In true French fashion the veggie meal was a no show. I was offered the same cordon bleu as the LGB. Don’t get me wrong but last time I looked a cordon bleu thingy contained something representing (or imitating) chicken. Just the vegetables for me then. The LGB said it was more cordon blah than cordon bleu!
Breakfast didn’t arrive either; this deal was looking less and less attractive. They bustled about and returned with two teeny eeny weeny intsy tinsy winsy packets of melba toast, one pat of butter and one square plastic pot of jam. Yummy, that really filled me up for the day!
|No really, I can't eat all of that.|
Then the onslaught. Half a leg, one buttock and a bikini line shaved. Him not me. Boy, oh boy, there is going to be some scratching and itching there. Nurses came and went. Blood pressure taken, blood samples taken, urine samples taken, temperature taken. The anaesthetist practised his English declaring, “All zee women luuuurve a man wiz a French accent, non?” The nurse raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows skywards. The operating surgeon walked in, looked at the LGB said “Okay?” the LGB nodded, the surgeon said “marvellous” to guffaws of laughter from his medical staff audience and exited curtain left.
Later that night we popped downstairs for a coffee and breath of fresh air. Outside the front doors we read a sign stating what the visiting times were and outside these hours the doors would be locked. We had chosen ‘outside these hours’ to go out for a breath of fresh air. So there we were, locked out of the hospital. A little, tiny hint BEFORE we exited the building would have been so much more useful. So with me wearing the LGB’s pyjama bottoms and slippers we followed the terribly useful instructions on the door and walked along the main road and around the back of the building, pressed a buzzer and explained our predicament. That was just the first night.
I was categorically forbidden to take a picture of the LGB pre op in his natty paper knickers and matching mop hat with coordinating slippers!
When the LGB was being kept awake by the thunderous snoring of the patient in the next room the nurse stuffed some tissue in his ears. He found the screams of another patient in an unknown room a little disconcerting and the banging and clattering and loud voices night and day was enough to wake the dead. During the day there were building works outside, which made the LGB feel a little more at home but was not conducive to a peaceful recovery. Needless to say I was instructed to purchase earplugs.
Medics came and medics went at all hours of the night and day. One came whilst the LGB was immersed in his book. She studied the cover and said “The Physiotherapist”. The LGB looked up and replied “No, The Hypnotist” and pointed to his book, The Hypnotist by Lars Kepler. The medic replied “No, I am the physiotherapist”. Our lives are like an episode of ‘Allo, ‘Allo!
I stayed another night, but taking no chances I went self-catering and duly brought in the ear plugs, sandwiches and a kettle (the tea was dreadful).
All went well, apart from the epidural hurting like hell. We could not fault the staff or hospital………..just the food. How can one make a soup in so many different beautiful rainbow colours all taste like dish water?
The LGB is doing very well. He says never before have his drawers been pulled down so many times by so many women! At no gain. He is walking a good distance. I still have to put is ruddy socks and shoes on for him. I think he can do it himself really, he just likes that feeling of dominance over me.
So there you have it, the LGB has had his structural repair. My building blurb? What would that read? Looking tired and rundown. Could do with a facelift and re-thatching. Yeeees, some of you know what I mean!