The last few weeks have been tainted by unexpected disasters.
First of all, Michael fell over in the doorway of his workshop, manhandling John Hawke's anvil on the trolley. John, who was also there, did not fall over and did not scrape his arm.
Then Michael, whilst up the tall ladder, dropped one of Brian's Aylward's charcoals when his left hand gave way. He only saved himself by sticking his boot out onto a handy piece of jarrah furniture. Brian's work was not so lucky. I returned the picture to him as the frame came off second best. Brian, the grooviest 82 year-old I know, accepted our excuses and grovelling apology, not charging us for a new frame when he was quite entitled to do so.
Finally, the third disaster in a row, Michael fell backwards off a stepladder and aggravated his sore left wrist late on a Sunday afternoon. I wanted to take him to Emergency at Northam Hospital then and there, but he chose to weasel out of that expedition. Finally in Emergency the next day, Michael promptly minimised his pain and we went to the bottom of the triage list. We waited five hours for an X-ray and six hours for an inconclusive report.
An appointment with Ben Kimberley, who regularly puts Michael and I together again, heralded the second series of disasters. An MRI showed extensive damage to Michael's left wrist without actually breaking a bone. In an effort to delay surgery, Michael was fitted up for a new splint by the fabulous Sandy Kevill and a cortisone injection guided by ultrasound. More ominous were Michael's blood results which showed his liver wasn't getting any happier. Reluctantly biting the bullet, we stopped drinking last Monday, at least until the results of Michael's abdominal ultrasound are revealed. He is scheduled for this test on Monday next...
I should have known that the universe wasn't done with us yet. All was well last night in front of the idiot box. "Gardening Australia" had come and gone and I was engrossed with the murder of a most unpleasant chap on "Annika". Michael heard the cats outside, opened the front door and stepped into the dark. Chop appeared to be chomping on one of the weeds Michael had sprayed with weedkiller in the late afternoon. Michael attempted to chase him away, worried that he might be poisoned...
A day later, the boys are fit as fiddles. Michael, however, turned his right ankle and heard a distinct crack, followed by instantaneous pain and impressive swelling.
Beverley Hospital, on a Friday night, had no doctor. Northam Emergency wasn't answering their phone. Repeatedly. Health Direct advised us to go to an Emergency Department. I rang Narrogin Hospital 100 kilometres away and decided to set out there. Arriving at 11.30 pm, we were in and out in an hour. X ray showed 5th metatarsal fracture in pieces. Moonboot and pain meds were dispensed. We arrived home just after 1.30 am.
The moral of this story? Never chase a cat outside wearing thongs. I am sure that all Chop did was blow raspberries in Michael's general direction. Around 2.30 am, he banged on the front door to be let in, followed soon after by Suey. Michael has a broken foot. The cats do not...
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