I've sliced my stomach open

My mornings worth of phone calls are paying off. Already had one apology and an email so willing to back down a little and passively wait for some more positive outcomes.


Zack's daddy has been working from home. It isn't out of choice but it's quite odd as I have to ignore the fact that he is in the house and remember he's at work, otherwise I find myself wondering in with Zack and plonking him on his knee. 


Oh the reason for the home working. Well a week ago Dan had a small mountain bike accident. He impaled himself on the handle bar of his bike and slit his stomach open. I can hear the ewwwwwghhhhs already, you're lucky, I could show you all photographic evidence of his injury.


He phoned me from the ambulance, "Hi, I've had a slight accident." 


Me. "What kind of accident, are you okay?" 


"Well, I'm in an ambulance"


"An ambulance......oh God, what have you done?"


"I've sliced my stomach open. I'm okay though, they are just going to take me in to get it checked out."


"Oh no, which hospital?"


"Rochdale." 


"Rochdale. Oh God."


I don't know which was worse the injury or the thought of travelling down the M60.


Seems the toning down of the incident didn't stop with Dan. His two friends that were with him calmly told me he was fine and in good spirits. Then I got to the hospital to find Dan in A and E waiting to be taken down to theatre where they would cut him open to check for any internal damage. 


Fortunately he suffered no rupture to any internal organs and no damage to his bowel, which was partly coming out of his five inch wound. They stitched him all back up again and he spent five days in Rochdale hospital. The first two of which he was on Morphine and completely out of his head. I know this to be true as he called me at 7.15 am on Sunday to see how I was and then couldn't remember doing so a day later. Oh and he also spent that day phoning round suppliers for a protective body suit. Nothing like some hard hitting pain killers to give you that joie de vivre when chasing important biking equipment.


Granny and Grandad Gould where away on holiday and thankfully they didn't phone as I would have to have done by best fib to save them endless worry whilst on their jollies.


Nanny and Grandad Price had to come to the rescue and looked after the Pants whilst I went to visit Dan each evening. By the end of it they had worked out Zack's little whinge times and took no notice of them as they were quite short lived. In fact, I lived five days as a single parent and Zack was the best behaved little boy. Ever. No difficult bedtimes, slept right through and a good boy in the day. Thankfully all was good at home.


So now the patient is here. Apparently whilst I popped out yesterday a nurse appeared to take out his staples from his stomach. No appointment. No warning. There she was, complete with staple snippers. I asked if it was okay, he said it wasn't bad but didn't like being caught unawares. He said he needed to prepare. He had Zack, needed to change out of his pyjama top,  and have a pee. He told her she'd have to wait a second. I hope she didn't get all that information too. All I could picture was some woman sat downstairs with large metal cutters patiently waiting whilst Dan was running round upstairs like Goldie Hawn, simultaneously changing pyjama top and peeing.


Aaaaah it's just like Carry on Doctor round these here parts.