David Coats Blog

Well. I was going to write in a post how French health care is clearly better than English (cool digital X-Ray machine, pleasant and functional surroundings etc) but i’m certainly not singing their praises now, well not about their ability to diagnose injuries anyway.

I have a broken wrist.

UNBELIEVABLE!

I have been walking around for a week with no cast or protection, in considerable pain, washing windows, bowling, dancing with women in nightclubs and generally not taking it easy - all because the French doc say ‘yor riss - zear ees no frac-tyer’. I even ask ‘what is this white kinky line across the Radius in the x-ray - very similar in looks to last years fracture?’ French doc say ‘zat ees - err - ow you sai - strezz lyne from poogch! (hits bent wrist with palm of other hand) - eem-pact. Nuh-zing to wurrie about’. Lie-ger-ment dameje ownlie’. Stress line my arse.

In Frenchies favour though, the surgeon at the Royal Sussex County said it was a very subtle fracture of the Radius - and he could understand why it wasn’t picked up. I was a little rude to the hospital staff if I’m honest - for which I do apologise. I was highly frustrated at the thought of wearing a smelly cast for 4 more weeks, so complained bitterly. I wore my most moody face in the plaster room and huffed & puffed a lot. At least I was well prepared for the 3 hour wait and queued patiently - which was more than can be said of the great unwashed waiting alongside me. I sat momentarily without headphones, listening to the whinging of small minded people about the ‘unacceptable’ wait. ‘This wouldn’t happen in business’ ‘we’re treated like cattle stuffed in here’ ‘You don’t get treated like this on the continent’ GET A LIFE.

So - A smelly, clumpy cast, on dominant right hand is mine for a month. Great. I am going to become a calcium freak and drink at least a pint of milk a day now lest I ever break another bone again!

As I kind-of mentioned above, Jon, Adz and I went to Indie Night at The Arc on Saturday where there was easily a 3 to 1 ratio of women to men. Brilliant! I danced, albeit limp wristedly, with the hottest and most pissed girl I have met in a very long time. She introduced herself by saying ‘Can I dance with you before you and your mates are celebrities?’ Most bizarre chat up line EVER! She really didn’t need to. Rebecca was exceptionally pretty, with crazy hair and gorgeous mannerisms - even though she could barely stand up. I can’t help thinking; had she been slightly less inebriated or had Jonny ‘Wing man’ Stewart mopped up the attention of her friend, I might have got to the swapping numbers stage. Ce La Vie. NO. NO FRENCH. I hate the French REMEMBER!

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