Even more notes from an injured editor

I bet you are all wondering when the two bits of fibular in my left leg are finally going to fuse. If anyone knows then please let me know because I haven't a clue and neither it seems do the doctors. Every time I visit the surgery I always leave disappointed with more x-rays and assorted prescriptions. I think Iím personnally financing Dr Blancs retirment fund.
This week my pain was taken to a new level when I ingested something that disagreed with me. For a night and day I spent a lot of time either sitting or praying to the porcelain god. If dealing with the contents of your stomach trying to escape as quickly as possible wasn't bad enough the uncertainty of making it to the loo in time is another. I'm sure I'm not alone in getting what I like to call the 15 second warning. When you wake knowing you have to make it to the smallest room before you blow chunks but throw some crutches and some vistors bags into the equation and it becomes a lot more precarious.
Yesterday the plaster cast was removed to reveal, not so much a leg, but a matted dry mess of hair and skin. Before you get too excited the bone is still broken. But regardless of its state it was good to see it again. No more having to tie a plastic bag around my leg every time I get into the shower.