--- Steven W--- wrote:
> Hi G--- (or is that Paul now?)
>Thanks for the ‘meteor’ card, much appreciated. You
> seem to get back to
> Scotland more than I do these days! Not fair!
>Hopefully the Northwest thing will resolve itself as
> these things often do.
> Governments don’t like to be seen to be bailing out
> companies but they do,
> often on the quiet.
>I thought I had mentioned the tumour. Anyway, it’s
> not the sort of thing to
> be broadcast is it? It seems, however, that I have a
> brain tumour but it is
> not, thank God, cancerous. Basically it can make me
> a bit unstable on my
> feet sometimes (a bit whisky like in that respect),
> gives me vertigo
> sometimes, and has made me stone deaf in my left
> ear. (It’s great I now have
> ‘selective’ deafness, much to Clare’s annoyance!).
>I was told I had to have an operation, but that as
> this kind of tumour only
> grows around 2mm a year there was no rush, 7 or 8
> years would be fine.
> Trouble is they got it wrong and it doubled in size
> in a year. They then
> misread the scan and sent me back onto the street
> for another year. Luckily
> I had an inkling something was wrong and challenged
> them. Seems I was right
> and the almighty surgeons/specialists were wrong. A
> subsequent scan proved
> this to be the case. Anyway, I lost confidence in
> them and decided to do my
> own research. I came up with an alternative
> treatment that they hadn’t
> offered me.
>Apparently there is a ‘turf war’ in surgery. Maybe
> in the USA where it is
> all about money this is common, but it came as a bit
> of a shock to me to
> find it here too. Anyway, my ‘specialists’ were all
> ‘scalpel’ surgeons,
> shall we call them. Their idea was to let the tumour
> grow for a few years,
> take me to hospital for 7 days, give me an 11 hour
> operation that involved
> cracking open my skull, breaking the water sack
> around my brain, cutting out
> the tumour, sealing the brain sack with a lump of
> gristle from my leg and
> keeping me off work for 3 months. There was a 1 in
> 100 chance I would die
> and a 50% chance my facial nerves would be damaged
> leaving me with a face as
> if I had had a stroke or palsy. Nice!
>So, having decided to do my own research (2.30 one
> morning, couldn’t sleep,
> went on internet to see what I could come up with!)
> I found out that there
> is another treatment for the tumour. It does not
> involve cutting open my
> head, does not require 3 months off work and in the
> end was done with me
> back home next day!
> Check out www.gammaknife.org.uk
I did and
> it potentially saved my life!
>In fact we now joke about it. My friends were all,
> understandably and
> flatteringly, concerned. Clare and I had pretty well
> sussed it out so
> weren’t too bothered.
>So, imagine this. I went to the hospital in
> Sheffield around 11 on the
> Friday morning. Had a few tests, got bored and left
> around 4. Clare had
> booked into a hotel in town so I walked there and
> collected her. We went
> into town, did a bit of shopping, went for a pizza
> and some wine, I walked
> her home to the hotel and strolled back to the
> hospital for 10 pm.
> Next day, Saturday, up at 6 for some tests. Into
> surgery around 8.30 (There
> were a physicist, a neurosurgeon, two radiographers
> and sundry nurses in
> attendance.). The operation took place around 11.30.
> A bit of blood came
> pouring out of where they had placed some clamps on
> my head, no big deal but
> messy! It was vital my head didn’t move during the
> operation so they put a
> metal clamp to my skull, through the skin.
> So, back to the ward and within 10 minutes I was
> pacing up and down asking
> to go home. They said I had to stay in overnight. I
> reminded them that I
> only lived an hour up the road, why bother keeping
> me in? They asked me if
> the consultant had agreed and I said (lied) that he
> had. In they end they
> agreed that I could go at 5pm if there were no
> reactions. So, ensuring that
> there weren’t, I left at 5.
Picture this, Clare and me (with two ‘bullet holes’
> on my forehead, blood
> oozing) strolling down the street from the hospital,
> me dragging my case
> behind me. Clare had left the car at the hotel, as
> she hadn’t imagined we
> would be going home that day. So, suitcase in hand,
> bullet holes in forehead
> and blood on shirt, I clambered onto the bus for the
> town centre. When we
> got there we remembered that, as we shouldn’t have
> been going home, there
> was no food in the house. So, suitcase in hand,
> bullet holes in forehead and
> blood on shirt, we strolled into Marks and Spencer’s
> to do a bit of
> shopping! What a sight it must have been. One bloke
> came up and enquired
> after my health. Goodness knows what he thought had
> happened. Anyway, back
> to the car and off home.
> A friend called up from France on the Sunday morning
> to ask Clare how I was
> doing, he fell off his perch when I answered the
> All in all a good laugh!
>The tumour is now shrinking and I was back at my
> desk next morning, earning
> a crust.
>Thankfully my company gives me private healthcare,
> they coughed up the
> money. In error they sent me the invoice for
> £14,000. Ouch!
>Anyway, that was my little bit of excitement this
>Keep in touch,
> PS Never one to miss the opportunity to use an OLD
> joke, when one of the
> surgeons, in an effort to reassure, told me that a
> friend of his had had the
> same operation and within 2 months was in
> Switzerland skiing I said
> ‘Brilliant! I’ve never been able to ski.’
You spin a good yarn, my friend...Sounded like several scenes from a odd independent film...or at least from a Paul Thomas Anderson movie...
And speaking of Paul...I don't get your reference to that name. Did I miss something?
Yesterday, I learned that I'll be getting a Interim Period paycut on 16November while The Company and our representative union hammer out an agreement which will, I'm sure, lead to even deeper paycuts. Yay. Wow, if people thought I was an underachiever BEFORE, think of the selective hearing I'll have NOW... This doesn't come as a surprise to me but it's still galling how front-line employees give up a greater proportion or their paycheck while upper management does a comestic paycut that probably won't even affect the paint-job on their summer homes. Demoralizing.
Still, it could be worse. Dubya could have an approval rating above 50%...it's now at about 30%. Deep sigh of satisfaction...Fucking hick fratboy and his old-boy network of advisors...Keep up the BAD work, champs...
All for now, Steven...Keep those holes filled with some solid sealant...