Stop With The Mean Emails, Please!

Thank you everyone, for all your well wishes for Alan's good health.  He is feeling great after a few days in Penang, taking it easy.  

I do not however, thank you for all the comments made about how he supposedly got the cut above his head.  I did not hit him with a rolling pin, ipad, fist or as my sister so nicely suggested, a Dutchie pot!  He did it himself, and I now call an end to all the hurtful emails that have been sent my way!

Amazingly, he never got the black eye he was hoping for.  This is as bad as the colour got, a sort of sickly yellow.  Thankfully his eye also didn't swell closed, though it was very puffy first thing in the morning.


So, whilst we don't know what caused the problem, we can at least laugh about it now.  Well, sort of.  


His stitches come out tomorrow, so we may get to know then whether he is to be left with a rakish, sexy scar (we are both hoping not).  I shall be there helping the doctor with my quilting skills.  You have to be able to unpick stitches as a quilter, as well as sew them.  I just don't understand why Alan doesn't let me rip them out with my stitch un-picker.  Think of the money we'd save.


Actually, it was quite funny when we saw the doctor on the day it happened.  I knew the doctor from another hospital here, where she was one of the doctors I used.  I think she thought I was totally bonkers that morning.  


In answer to her question about how aware Alan had been when he came round, I explained to her that as soon as he did, I tested his awareness, asking the 'what day is it' and 'what did we do yesterday' type of questions.  She said that she thought I was amazingly cool headed and calm to have done that. Yeah right!  I was shaking him by the shoulders shouting, "What bloody day is it? Is it the day I get my nails done?  Did I remember to take my tablets yesterday?"  


Anyway, I laughed and said that I had trained at the television school of ER, and that I had in fact been just at the point of grabbing a couple of electric probes, sticking them on his chest and shouting 'CLEAR'.  You had to give her credit for only pausing a few seconds before laughing!


It was a good job that I didn't tell her that after that, my next move would have been to cut a hole in Alan's throat with a pair of nail scissors and stick a ballpoint pen in his windpipe.  Okay, he may not have had problems with his breathing when he passed out, but by the time I had practiced the last two techniques, he may have been experiencing a few problems!