My youngest son Adam (GingerJesus - who already has a new nickname from a particular bunch of friends, he upgrades them every two years apparently!) has been diagnosed with costochondritis, which is inflammation of the chest walls and really painful. During New Years night, I sat up in A&E with him until he saw a doctor, which was fairly quick and the place, fairly quiet. I expected to see a few knives stuck between shoulder blades given the time of year but casualty had but a flashing Christmas tree and me, strategically placed to help lull children to sleep, I imagine! Anyhow the doctor sent him away with medicines that were to help heartburn, not muscle pain and such. It was our GP today that prescribed him the correct medicine. It's a bit scary when casualty doctors get it wrong. Mind you, he did have that misanthropist aura about him. I'm really feeling it for Adam, as he's had to put a stop on his band practice (drums) for now and just watch at his darts tournaments.
And moi? I have been referred to hospital for a bowel investigation. Pains that I haven't suffered and moaned about much since my hysterectomy in 1996 (I still went to see Bowie just 2 weeks after!) have come back with a vengeance. The quack reckons that either little tags and adhesions from previous surgeries ( I had endometriosis) have grown and started to wrap around my bowel, twisting and tugging on it. The plan is an investigation via keyhole surgery sometime soon. Gee, I dunno - get one worry, treatment and the all clear and something else pops up to replace it!
I did, however, have the best time watching Ross's band, Hotel India, headline the most sought after venue in Scotland. King Tuts in Glasgow has sticky floors, dodgy toilets, horrendous bar prices (artists get it half price) and is underground. The atmosphere is amazing though and the PA system is cracking! The only thing we missed was mingling with the lads before they went on stage. Being the headlining band, the VIP room was open to them and it was requested they stayed there. It was a proud moment watching their entry from side stage. They all decided to wear awful Christmas jumpers for the banter, too! Fairy won with his present, Xmas pudding and sleepy Z's number.
To round things off, a music critic from Scotland's best selling newspaper, The Daily Record, was there to see the guys in action. He wrote the below article but I had to re-write it for clarity as my scanner is broken and the snaps didn't turn out too great either. But it's an even bigger boost when you've made it to the nationals. And if health and this dodgy ruddy computer holds out, I may just leave a slightly bigger dent in that swivel chair and regularly join in with the rest of society/mad people......
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