Learning lessons (moderately graphic about self-injury).
So I cunningly decided to use the back of my skull as an advanced braking agent on Monday evening. I would like to pretend that I was investigating something involving, mass, force and cellular damage, but I'd be lying. I discovered that when a 6 foot man goes flying arse over tip, striking the ground with his head first, then generally the correct response is to lie there in place for several minutes. Fazing into and out of reality followed by an urgent desire to be violently sick. Alas nothing in stomach to allow any yacking, but several minutes of dry wretching ensued. Then the final decision from the lower limb department. Apparently rather like recalcitrant socialists they felt that as the skull and its contents (apparently a bunch of intellectuals and or class traitors) had all the fun recently they had no intention of being on side and provide locomotion in a useful fashion.
End result 2 hours return time home (mainly as I walked to London Bridge) and thankful that my innate homing instinct was somehow intact and immune to blunt trauma. Apparently incapable of door locks, actually happy to believe that considering how my head felt yesterday (48 hours later) when looking at a newspaper on a train really didn't help. So currently the instant dizziness following any movement across the plane that my eyes are set in and a dull reminder that my skull really wasn't designed for these activities. Next time I must drink more alcohol to numb the pain, really truly more alcohol.
I rather liked the SHO at Lewisham who took pity on me on the Tuesday and ran some remarkably fast clinical checks and sped me through radiography. All in all though, if this is mild concussion forget anything else further along the scale I'm not interested. So having hoofed the net and chatted to a couple of Registrars (one of whom refused to stop laughing for an entire conversation) I am now in the glorious position of an undefinable period of malaise.
The real killer, and here I see the fickle hand of a malevolent entity is that I look at booze now and just think, nope. If that was an attempt at negative reinforcement then it is damn late and really not at the most appropriate time. Bastards! It isn't that I don't want a drink it's that it makes my head lousy. Tempting though it is to walk through my life in a state of permanent hangover I'm fairly sure HW would arrange an accident for me.
So that was this week wiped out.
Saturday though, Saturday I get to pick up a copy of the new CoC board game. Admittedly it is entirely likely it will get used once then placed into a dark cupboard. BUT I have to have it.