S04, Episode 1: The Broken Thumb
‘I’m telling you, housework is evil!’
‘Yes!’ Kate raises her glass and clinks it against mine.
We are sitting catching the last rays of sun in her garden. It’s a chaotic patch of grass dominated by a very large bear-sized, very boisterous golden retriever, who thinks he’s a lap dog. He is currently trying to get inside my sweater for cuddles.
It’s all very well as I desperately clutch my glass in one hand, wine sloshing dangerously close to spilling and attempt to push him off with my injured other hand. Kate grabs him as he makes further inroads to my sweater.
‘Just how did you break your thumb?’
‘Housework. Seriously, it got hooked on the Hoover handle and I went the other way…twang!’
Kate guffaws and looks horrified at the same time. ‘Ouch!’
‘Yes, that’s what I said.’
‘Oh, my god! I bet the air turned blue,’ Kate is referring to my sailor’s lexicon of swarthy terms.
‘It’ll be ok, the weird bit was the consultant,’ I launch into the excitement of my ordeal.
Essentially a consultant had a look at my x-ray and figured that along with the break, there was something else wrong with my fingers. They are showing signs of a form of arthritis - he intimated that this could be body-wide.
‘It would explain some of my pains and stiffness. I might finally get some answers. He has scheduled me for a thorough lookover.’ I take a large slug of wine.
‘Besides he is a very tall attractive Dutchman…I’m happy to be looked over!’
Kate splitters ‘You are a disgrace!!’
I shrug laughing at her outrage. ‘You know it’s all hyperbole - Ross is tall and handsome and most importantly - available.’
My appointment rolls around and after a million xrays, proddings and general inspections. I have decided that my new consultant might actually be a sadist. Oh yes, there’s the charming smile, funny banter and lovely Dutch accent but he seems to actually enjoy his job.
‘Now, Emma, lesht jusht checken the shpine again.’ More torture as I bend into unnatural positions. ‘That’sh good,’ big smile. I told you - sadist.
Turns out I have the spine of a 90-year-old man. Well, not just my spine but a strange type of arthritis that makes my joints look like they are covered in wax. You remember those bottles of rough-as-badgers-ass chianti that restaurants used to put candles in? With all the wax dribbled down them was the height of sophistication circa 1983. That is what my spine looks like. It would explain why I am stiff and in discomfort.
A regime of physio and exercise is what the doctor orders. More torture then. But I do feel relief as I know I’m not just imagining the aches and pains. I’m not sure it explains the falling over but maybe I am out of kilter because of the spine stuff or I drink too much wine. Hard to say!
Thankfully it looks as if it won’t get any worse, so perhaps for the first time in a few years, I can start to feel back to normal.
Kate and I are cackling over a bottle of red, this time hiding in the house from a flurry of June sleet.
‘This damn climate!’ I moan.
‘You should do some of your exercises to warm yourself up,’ she teases.
I groan. ‘ Don’t they are horrid!! I keep falling over and to be frank, I can’t be arsed! By the time I have dropped the kids at school and hosed down the house, exercise is low on my list.’ What I don’t mention is the general apathy I feel about so many things these days.
‘Well, drink up…keep that drinking arm fit,’ we dissolve in giggles. ‘I just can’t believe all this came from a broken thumb’
‘I know, that’s definitely the last time I do any housework!’
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