“SORRY WHAT?” Over the last week or so these two words have populated the breadth of my vocabulary. On a recent visit to my GP I mentioned an ear complaint which consisted of full on blockage in the left side for at least 12 hours after every bath. He advised two drops of olive oil in the ear twice a day. On asking if I could have the ear syringed he informed me this was no longer considered good practice and would not be an option… (?) Fine.
Pau dutifully dressed my ear morning and night until I felt like a limp salad. All this achieved was complete and utter deafness along with a crick in the neck as I tried to catch the sound waves whizzing past the other side of my head. We got tired of the oil and so stopped. The inner contents of my ear then presumably, firmed up and began to send pain alert signals to my brain. Great! - infection was the message. Explaining this to the midwife last Thursday, she didn’t hesitate to call my GP’s surgery and demand they syringe my ears as soon as possible. An appointment was made.
In the meantime, I’m waddling around the house making all the appropriate ‘I’m heavily pregnant’ gestures; sharp breaths inward whilst leaning into the arch of my back. Meanwhile Pau is having a man cold and suffering from EXTREME tennis elbow owed to over usage of modern technology; the computer mouse. He occasionally looks up through red puffy eyes and manoeuvres himself toward me in a pretty good interpretation of my own funny walk to remind me how terrible he feels.
So picture the scene - Hommerton labour unit. Me: legs akimbo, screaming SORRY WHAT? intermittently through the gas pipe whilst static forces charge through my bloodstream thanks to the TENS machine and Pau: wheezing over his sling comforting a redundant arm in an effort to himself ‘breathe! breathe!’ Jees, who’s the patient here?
BUT by miracle jets of warm water, my ear is now cured. Pau is getting over his cold and has an appointment with an injection for his elbow this Thursday. Slowly we’re coming back…