|In which I think I've tried to pass Charlie Watts. AND his drum kit|
Next thing is that we haz mice again. As soon as the temperature dips, everything that can force its tiny skull through the beautifully decorative air bricks in our basement comes in for a holiday.
I discovered our visitors when I opened a drawer to remove the kitchen roll and discovered it in a lacy state very muck like Nibbles left the sitting room curtains.
A quick peep in the cupboard beneath the boiler showed thousands of miniscule poops and umpteen empty peanut shells from our Hallowe'en bowl. Such is my household sluttery *shrug*. Ah well, better get the trap out, I spose. Hate catching them, as you know, but I reckon that everything furry that lived in the garden is now living underneath the kitchen floor. Got to be done.
The final thing is that I was at the docs again this morning. Weeks ago (before Hallowe'en) I took a spectacularly SORE pain in my side while my friend was visiting, discussing the hula hooping. The pain came on without warning and was so bad that I was hyperventilating and sweating and groaning on the sofa.
I took myself off to the loo to make myself sick so see if whatever it was might shift, but no. I crawled back downstairs, my face the colour of old Wensleydale cheese and begged my friend to get my car keys and drive me up to the hospital. Which you could hit from my house with a very long throw.
She suggested that I try to get my breathing under control before we left, which we did.
And then. Suddenly. The pain was gone.
Today was my appointment with my long-suffering docctor. I relayed the event in gory detail and he announced that he was 100% sure that it was a gallstone that wafted from the wound site, down this tube and that it had got stuck as it tried to enter my gut.
'But my gallbladder's gone...' I said.
'Yes, but there can be all sorts of stuff in that tube after the surgery. I'm pretty sure you've passed a gallstone. Next time it happens, take painkillers and if it doesn't ease off in 20 minutes, come back up and we'll give you something stronger.
'It's quite a spectacular pain, isn't it? One of the worst, apparently,' he said brightly. 'If it DOES happen again, we'll need to take a look and see what's going on in there.'
The pain certainly was spectacular, it bloody felt like Mick Jagger was trying to squeeze into my gut, never mind a piddly wee stone the size of a garden pea.
Pass the gin and tonic.
How has your day gone?