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 POST BEGUN 1228HRS BST SUNDAY 23 AUG 2026

 

PAIN ADDLES YER BRAIN - RE-LEARNED THIS 0200HRS BST SUNDAY 9TH AUG 2026. OPIATE PAIN RELIEF CONTRIBUTES TO THE PAIN-ADDLED CONDITION. LEARNED 9TH-16TH AUG 2026 WHILST A HOSPITAL IN-PATIENT. 

 

O.M.F.Gosh was I glad to get home 6pm Saturday afternoon 16th August! A week on and the opiates have finally cleared my system (WHEW!).

 

Long story short I took a very nasty fall in the bathroom, broke my left ankle in three places and 'mildly' sprained right wrist-to-elbow. I love my surgeon who decided NOT to operate owing to my age, heart issues, and his belief I would comply completely with his instructions. 

 

Instead he doped me up (codeine) PLUS injected Lidocaine into my foot, ignored my screams, set the breaks and then put a plaster and fibreglass cast on. I have been faithful to instruction - keep elevated, NO WEIGHT BEARING, 15mg codeine every 4-6 hours and an injected blood thinner once a day while in hospital replacing the pain relief and thinner with 600mg aspirin every 4-6hrs once home.

 

Why? Because paracetamol turns me green by the second dose despite the NHS refusing to dispense aspirin to those of us who cannot tolerate acetaminophen/paracetamol - codeine in small doses 'only' makes me throw-up. sigh 

 

The woman in the bed next to me kept trying to tell the staff she too cannot take paracetamol, they basically shoved it down her throat then had to deal with her subsequently enlarged liver. Nice, huh? (no, not nice) 

 

I can only 'get out of bed' to use the bedside commode and once an hour to stand on my good leg for 1-3 minutes to hopefully prevent bedsores. For how long? EIGHT TO TEN BLOODY WEEKS (two down, there is that). The plan is for short ten step weight-bearing walks to begin in October. BTW, 'get out of bed' means scooching my body to the edge of the bed, planting my good foot on the floor whilst clinging to the bedside commode chair rails then rising and pivoting to lower myself onto said chair. 

 

I use the same transfer to get onto the hospital transport wheel chair - yes, Fox's Mom is only permitted to travel under hospital transport care. my cup runneth over. 

 

sigh 

 

Paul is beginning to worry me as he is proving a better housewife than me:) OK, he still can't cook but he's got the dish and clothes washers sussed, he's a reheat whizz now on the microwave, and he vacuums more than I ever did. He graciously keeps the bedside commode clean. Twice a day he brings me a clean basin with clean tepid water for a 'freshen-up'. He's doing great:)

 

POSTED 1312HRS BST SUNDAY 23 AUGUST 2026 - FORGIVE ERRORS, BLAME LINGERING CODEINE 

 POST BEGUN MON 3 AUG 2026 1004HRS BST

 

 When I was around eight years old I resolved to 'grow old with dignity'. By age eight, you see, I'd been around enough 'adults' growing old in seriously undignified ways to know I did not want that disgrace for myself should I live long enough to be 'old'. It was the 1960s and the time period was becoming known as 'the swinging 60s' - ugh. I freely admit a fair part of my disdain for 40something women in low-cut blouses and mini-skirts was down to childhood prudishness but honestly a larger part was owing to disgust at the way these simpering cows flung themselves with increasing desperation at men who could not be called gentlemen if the flinging included bedroom (or backseat or airing cupboard or...) antics. 

 

At the same time I observed my older siblings (sister 12 years older, brother six years older) wallowing in an ever-deepening cess pit of 'free love' and drugs. I distinctly recall my brother admitting he'd 'do pills and pot' but never needles after seeing a girlfriend od on heroin which included a massive blister that formed as he waited for the ambulance. Didn't stop him trying anything smokeable or swallowable, though. 

 

SIDEBAR MOMENT: after high school and college (my alma mater is now a university but at the time was a state college) I joined the USCG (1974-1986). In the late '80s my brother was 'the million dollar man' at Palm Beach County Jail as the biggest drugs kingpin they'd nicked at the time and my military service was known to the police who delighted in calling me 'Al Capone's other brother' once they determined I'd played no part in my brother's drug smuggling operation. 

 

Al Capone's other brother was a police officer who'd so disassociated himself from his gangster family he changed his name and became a highly successful Prohibition era Nebraska copper.

 

My brother was released in the mid-1990s and has been a fully law-abiding member of his community.

 

 I watched the '60s become the '70s, watched my so-called 'peer group' as they fumbled their way to an adulthood I was certain would lead to a dystopian future (and oh was I right!) all the while determined to 'age gracefully' AND be a 'good person'. Not sure about the 'good person' part (yeah, I've done some silly things, hasn't everyone?) but I feel I can say, as age 70 looms (God willing) at the end of the month, I have stuck to my childhood resolution. No 'mutton dressed as lamb', no cosmetic surgery meant to 'defy ageing'. I've been wearing sensible shoes since my mid-20s. 

 

Now if I could just convince my darling Paul we really do need a slightly bigger home!