Ticking away ... Day 884 ~ Charles Wildhouse ?

I'd not been to hospital for three weeks or so ... so another visit was on the cards today. I was off to Derby for a follow-up appointment ... not about the life limiting illness this time but the one that causes me so much inconvenience ~ my mallet finger.

Having a bath/shower ~ what a pain. OK I can wear a plastic bag on my left hand taped to my wrist with selotape but unless I leave my hand higher than my elbow then some water will get onto the plaster on my hand. I can cover quite a lot of ground with the soap in my right hand but when it comes to washing your right arm ... or your right armpit ... well, you try it sometime. I have to get help ... fortunately help is available and there is something so deliciously decadent about someone washing you.

Of course washing the pots is right out.

So, there we were in the Pulvertaft Hand Centre within the Royal Derby Hospital [to give it its correct title] just before 10.30am when my appointment was due. Various therapists and physios came in and called out a name as that name left the waiting area for attention.

Then a young woman came in with a clipboard. She was over my left shoulder and I heard her say quite softly "Charles Wildhouse ..." ~ I only really heard the 'Charles' ... but she repeated the name a little louder this time "Charles Wild ..." [she looked at her clipboard hesitantly] "... house'.

I piped up 'Wildgoose' ? She looked at the clipboard ... "Oh, yes ..." so then we were off to the treatment room.  

I never got round to asking her why she didn't come out with it and say "Wildgoose ...".

As usual I have gone on too long [as is the norm]. Longish story short[ish] ... I got a new split. My washerwoman Beloved had to put the plaster on too, in front of the professional to see how she was doing ... she nearly got full marks which pleased you know who ...

I got to choose a new colour for the splint ... even more shocking than the red one ...

How's the finger doing ? OK apparently ... well as far as they can tell. It can't be bent for another four weeks but it looks ok.  

This isn't the first time that my surname has been so badly treated. I have been called 'Wildgorse', 'Wildgrove', 'Goose' and many more. Worst of all is those damned computer messages that are left on my phone. I am always referred to as 'Charles Wiljus' by them.