Now before you start to snigger, I’m talking about this year and the definition of bang in this instance is a surprising or unexpected event not any kind of slang term for coitus. There’s no coitus going on around here at the moment, thank you. I’m talking about 2014.
On the 2nd january the year started on the tack it intended to follow and saw me being bowled over by a galloping labrador and ending up with a hole in my leg that took nine months to mend. 2014 has ended by Boofuls going ear over apex and landing in a most ungainly fashion which has seen him admitted to hospital with stitches and a broken leg awaiting surgery to pin the damn thing back together. It’s no way to spend New year’s Eve.
Not that I’m any great fan of new year’s eve and it’s alcohol fuelled jollity which all too often turns sour and nasty. No, I prefer to spend it with a few well chosen people with whom I know I can relax and not be on a knife edge all night waiting for trouble to start.
It’s a sad indictment of my childhood, that last comment but I’ll save that piece of catharsis for another day.
No, this particular new year I’m sitting here alone writing this and watching Jools Holland on the end of the year show while I drink the dregs of the Christmas advocaat.
The dog keeps sitting by the window and sighing, wondering where Boofuls has been taken to after all that commotion this morning. I know you’re all dying to know what happened. I wish I could make it dramatic but it really isn’t that dramatic.
Boofuls went outside to the workshop in his dressing gown and slippers. Aptly named as it turns out as these slippers did exactly that. They slipped on some ice and Boofuls landed like over cooked spaghetti dumped untidily in a bowl, with his legs twisted at all sorts of angles that God never intended them to go in.
When I heard the scream I ran outside to see blood spurting out of the wound on his leg. Two thoughts immediately ran through my mind: ‘Broken leg’ and ‘artery’. Luckily it wasn’t an artery that was bleeding it was just (just?) a deep puncture wound. Good, I could tell he wasn’t going to bleed to death on the drive. However, I could see that I needed to work out how to get him to his feet without him slipping again and injuring himself even more. My God he’d already thrown himself to the ground in such a way that he’d injured almost every surface on his body. Why could he not just fall on his bum like everyone else does, bruising nothing but their pride?
It didn’t take a genius to work out that he needed a hospital. The leg was swelling before my very eyes. Trying not to panic or scream at the dog who was desperately trying to get in to help, I was retrieving distant memories of my first aider days. How does it go? Oh yes. Rest, ice, compression elevation. R.I.C.E. Luckily we had some ice so I quickly applied a compress and got the leg elevated.
Now what? Think. What do I need to organise? Hospital. Clothes. Dog. Phone work. Ambulance.
Ambulance down our track? No chance.
I could get him to hospital quicker and easier than an ambulance. It’d take them an hour just to find us.
So. How to get a large, shocked, injured man dressed and up to the nearest hospital? I phoned The Rev. “We’re having a spot of bother.” The Rev came and helped me to fold Boofuls carefully into the car but then had to go and take Gembolina to the doctor’s as she was having problems of her own but he managed to take Douggie the doggie to Lashes so that was one less thing to worry about.
Eventually I got Boofuls safely into the hospital and into the care of professionals. It turned out that he needs the bones in his leg pulling back in together so they will have to pin it. Of course they can’t do any of that until the swelling goes down so it’s going to be a few days in hospital before they can even do the operation and then it will be six weeks before he can put any weight on it.
Deep feckin’ joy.
Timing, Boofuls, timing. It could not be worse.
So that’s our new year. I hope yours gets off to a better start. Happy New year to you.