Just Call Me Terry Butcher

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Paul Was Never Going to Win An Arguement With A Door Frame

                                 Paul Was Never Going to Win The Arguement With The Door Frame

So as you probably gathered from reading my last post, I haven’t had the best of luck keeping accident free. Here’s part two of my collection of mishaps and freak accidents and my top 357 hospitals in the UK.

Aged 19 – Split Open Head Again! It’s Christmas Day and we’ve just watched The Spy Who Loved Me for the 37th time. Going from the dining room into the hall there was a chair positioned in the way. Rather than simply move the chair out the way and walk through I  decided to jump over the chair. Except I didn’t . I jumped onto the chair and then inexplicably jumped up into the door frame. I land, put my hands on my head to discover blood everywhere. “Mum, I’ve cut my head open.” As I’ve occasionally been prone to a little bit of exaggeration she didn’t believe me. Now a bit miffed I spread blood on my face, made sure my hands were covered in it then calmly walked into the lounge and presented myself to my disbelieving parents. ”See, I told you.” Just like Arnie in Total Recall, (“You call this a delusion.”) but a little less Austrian. Cue screaming from my poor mum. Seriously, I have no idea how she didn’t suffer a nervous breakdown and go prematurely grey from my catalogue of blood splattered incidents.

Now I love the NHS and they’ve been there for me on many occasions, however, my trip to Edgware General on Christmas Day still gives me nightmares. Basically, the staff were hammered. No really, they were off their faces. I turned up looking like Terry Butcher after the England v Italy World Cup qualifier and they fell apart laughing. Most of the other patients were completely smashed too so I was properly scared. It was difficult to tell who were staff and who were patients. “What happened?” slurred the nurse / random passer by. I explained and she was like, “Ah, don’t worry about it, happy Christmas. Soon stitched up and no more chair jumping for me.

Doctor? Patient? Who knows. Just make sure he can stitch up my head.

Doctor? Patient? Who knows. Just make sure he can stitch up my head.

Aged 25 – Shattered Ankle – Complete freak and to this day unexplainable. About to start a 5 a side football match on an astroturf pitch and one of the other players behind me ask’s, “Excuse me mate, have you got the time?” I turned round to tell him but my ankle didn’t liaise with my brain and instead stayed planted firmly in the ground. It then spontaneously exploded as if hit with four hammers by Kathy Bates in Misery. I screamed……a lot…….and cried. It was the worst pain I’ve ever suffered. With the ambulance on route I had to ring and tell my poor, ever suffering mum. Of course she thought I was messing around, (you’d really think she’d have learnt her lesson by now.) It was only when I passed my friend onto her that she believed and then proceeded to break down in tears.

After my favourite gas and air all the way to the hospital I was wheeled into A&E completely off my head. Singing and shouting out to everyone there, completely oblivious to the mostly backwards foot and excrutiating pain. The doctors refused to believe my explanation of how it happened as they felt only a car could have caused that much damage. They thought I was protecting someone with either awful driving skills or a serious grudge against me and my foot.  The upshot was two metal plates and 6 pins in my ankle for a year and then another op to take them out. Total 4 months on crutches and no more 5 a side football, ever.

Aged 27 Car Crash and Destroyed Briefcase – I’m on my way to a course to become a business manager complete with my posh new briefcase in the boot. As I reach the Borehamwood exit on the A1 the cars in front all brake very hard, very suddenly as do I. Unfortunately the car directly behind me is busy changing radio stations as he wasn’t happy listening to Zoom by The Fat Larry’s Band. The result of his poor music taste is him hitting me at about 50mph and then pushing me into the car in front. Air bag isn’t released and I head butt the steering wheel. Oh, and my car is now a giant accordion and you don’t want to know what’s happened to my beautiful briefcase. After getting checked out at the hospital and finding nothing was broken I get taken back to the course (being the conscientious fellow I am). So it’s lunch time as I stroll in holding the handle on my completely destroyed and hanging open and subsequently empty briefcase. My shirts been cut, I’ve got a horrible gash on my forehead, dried blood everywhere and one shoe (don’t even ask). The other participants stare open mouthed as I put my hand out and say, “Paul Albert, pleased to meet you.”

A Tunnel Definitely Not Fit For A Thirty Something.

                                          A Tunnel Definitely Not Fit For A Thirty Something.

Aged 36 – Cut Open Knee – It’s the day Katie’s due to be born and to give Rachel a break I took  Jade (almost 3 at the time) to the park. We decided to play hide and seek and for some unknown reason I tried to hide in a tunnel (attached to a climbing frame) big enough only for a very small child. I slipped on the metal steps leading to said tunnel and cut my knee extremely badly as well as giving my shin bone a good old whack. More blood, massively swollen knee and a phone call to my about to burst wife. “Em, I’ve had a little accident and need to go to the hospital, can you drive me?” I would tell you what she said in reply but it was just a bunch of swearing followed by tears. My mum came to the rescue, avoided looking at the blood and ferried me to the hospital. After all that, Katie was 2 weeks late and was called Jodie for the first hour of her life before we realised she was in fact a Katie. This didn’t stop us getting “Welcome to the world Jodie,” cards from the super organised people we know who clearly have too much time on their hands, (so no children then!)

So to avoid this becoming longer than Lord of The Rings I need one more entry to complete the hospital collection. Next time on Daddy Goes Bananas……..”What stummmmp?”, “That’s not Mango that’s a balloon pummmp” and “What pot holeeeee.”

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