And so I find myself staring down the barrel of 3 weeks at home.
You see, I have seriously damaged my back. Or, as my doctor put it, "Yep, you've fucked that right up, mate"
He comes from Australia, you see. I enjoyed a brief moment speculating what my grandmother would make of him; she'd probably wield the soap and wash his mouth out.
Ordinarily being restricted to one's house would be a cause for joy and celebration. Not here though. I can't sit and watch DVDs. I can't lie in bed and read a book. I can't even take long, leisurely baths and listen to Monteverdi while sipping chilled champagne.
No. You see, the problem is this: Everything. Hurts.
On the plus side, it means I get to have an MRI scan, and I've always fancied a go in one of those Star Trek-esque tube things. The only worry (aside from being launched as a photon torpedo) is that the software they're using on the scanner might be something I was involved in writing. Why the concern? Here's an old IT joke:
There's a quality management training course going on, and the instructor says to the assembled IT managers: "Right, imagine this. Your programmers have written the guidance software for the aircraft on which you're about to travel. Hands up all those who'd get on the plane."
A solitary hand is raised.
"You? You'd fly on a plane with software written by your team?"
The manager replies: "I wouldn't have to. It would never make it as far as the actual runway before the wheels fell off..."
Suggestions welcome for things to do at home when one is unable to adopt a position for more than 2 minutes before yelping in pain and moving.
