The day started well enough. I was on a part-time day and for the first time messed it up properly by sleeping in till twelve. Ouch, berated myself by sitting outside in the searing heat reading about pay systems on my laptop. A solid black unit from the old school of laptop design, it soon heated to around 1000 degrees adding an extra challenge to my note taking. On the plus side it felt good to be tanning my grey body and good to be by own man and sitting in my garden rather than sitting at work.
An afternoon spent catching up with an old mate and then a quick meeting with our legendary design mentor, who fortunately saw fit to give us some more work, put me in an even better mood. So much so that by the end of the day I was delighted to be heading down to the pub on the hill for a few beverages in the beer garden and some no doubt jocular chat with my mates. A good time was had and once again I found myself at home preparing for a final maroot with my pal when disaster struck.
In an ill-prepared and perhaps hastily executed maneuvre, he managed while attempting to “clean up the loose smashed pane in the porch” to somehow trip and put his arm right through the remains of the pane, hideously gashing his unprotected arm. “Quick get an ambulance” he cried. “Show me your arm” I said, to stare down at the squirting hole where part of his wrist should be and glimpse of bone. My phone was out of my pocket in seconds and I was once again, a year on, calling on the emergency services. “Come quick” I instructed the rude boy on the call centre on the other end of the line, “he’s bleeding like drip, drip, drip.” It was horrible – a hastily constructed Groover tourniquet and dispelled some of the blood loss, but my pal was looking a bit green and complaining of dizziness.
The resulting trip in the ambulance and subsequent three hour wait in casualty in Northwick Park, just like last time, reminded me how unpleasant these things really are. I was so knackered I felt like either breaking down in tears or biting someone. Fortunately as both my pal and I were covered in his blood, most of the other degenerates in there gave us a wide berth. Oh yes, but there were some degenerates, from the guy with the cut above his eye, having a full blown domestic with his chavette to the old asian guy who just sat there weeping, ranting away about the fact that no one cared about him. I for one, was tempted to tell him to pipe down, such was the futility of his endless mania led depression. Cockney mockery types swinging around trying to ponce a cigarette and eviling people, trying to start something up out of boredom, frustration, what? A baby with a young West African couple kept screaming. He was not happy to be in a hospital at four in the morning and he had no qualms about showing us it at deafening volume. I felt sorry for the mite, but I felt pretty bad too. One of those moments where all you can do is remind yourself that the whole rest of your life will not be like this and if you can just hold on, just hold on for just a few hours more you can go back to that happy place you distantly remember.
Eventually, they took my pal away and he didn’t come back for some time. I was starting to worry that something had gone funky, that some junior med cranked out on cheap NHS coffee had inadvertently snipped an artery while applying their best cross stitch. But in the end it was ok. My pal had been seen by the top honcho, because of the obvious severity of his injury. She was pretty happy to see him, declaring that it was the first proper emergency of the evening. He said that once we’d stopped the bleeding in the kitchen, he’d thought about just going to bed. She said it was good he’d decided against that as he would have probably died.
So what’s the moral. I don’t know really. I guess another reminder that horrible things pop up from time to time, like the girl at a party I was at today who had a fit, lying on the floor after a lot of sun, weed and poorly mixed dnb, or figroy who inadvertently punched my friend in the eye, triggering fractions and harsh words. It blew over. All I know is that we ended up outside the hospital last night laughing and swigging Dr Pepper and generally being pleased my pal could still move his hand, still open his eyes. Good stuff to feel at quarter to six in the morning, the thought of an empty, smooth and cool bed in my room back home, never looking so sweet.Leave a comment