Weeeeell, what's been going on with me?
I haven't been around as much as I'd like for a while, mainly due to work going crazy. On the one hand that's a good thing, because it provides my wallet with even more people that will eventually pay me (only after I threaten to take them to court for non-payment, of course). On the other hand, it leaves me with little time to enjoy all the lovely things I like to do outside of work.
I have been training though. It's hot(ish) in England at the moment, so climbing into a gi, and sweating buckets with other masochists in a dojo is the order of the day. This was actually what I was doing on Saturday morning. Lots of hot, sweaty matwork. The guy I was partnered with has something of a reputation for wanton brutality, so I wasn't too happy about the situation. Everything started off in a civilised manner though, and I was actually beginning to enjoy myself despite the fact this gentleman looks like all the football hooligans in the world combined into one huge, misshapen body. I really shouldn't have let my guard down, because I ended up with my shoulder locked and my face being driven into the mat. Ouch.
One sacred rule in any grappling-related martial art, is that if your opponent taps out or goes limp (yep - just like Fight Club), you release them and back off. And, believe me - I was tapping. I was tapping my little heart out. Because that shoulder-lock was agony. So what did the neanderthal on the other end of the lock do? Why, he continued to apply pressure. The twat. He actually applied just enough pressure to dislocate my shoulder. And out it came. Pop. THEN he let me go. Some people are good with dislocations. They can put up with the excruciating agony and take the pain stoically. I'm not one of those people. I was shrieking and swearing like a banshee. Obviously the class was stopped and my instructor came over and tried to suss out what had happened. The shoulder-popping wanker pleaded ignorance of course, but his reputation told a different story, and he was banished from the dojo there and then. I probably would have found that incredibly satisfying, if all the wrong bones weren't scraping against one another in my upper body. Off I went to the hospital. I have to say, I didn't wait long to be seen and treated. People in this country slag off our free healthcare a lot, and yes, there are problems with it - but by gum, when you need them - they're there for you. Anyways - they starting filling me with gas and air (essentially pure oxygen and a strong painkiller mixed up), which makes you incredibly high and all smiley. Which was wonderful. They then tried to pop my shoulder back into place, which was a no-go. It had been properly wrenched out of place and needed more than one person manipulating it, to get it back into it's socket. Great. This was a problem shoulder, anyway, having been dislocated a couple of times before - now it was turning into a catastrophic shoulder. So the doctor tells me this is going to be really, really painful and recommends I have some morphine as well as the gas and air. Bear in mind that I'm all smiley and high at this point and will agree to anything. So, they pump me full of morphine, and in half and hour with the combined effects of that and the gas and air, I really was on another planet. I could barely focus on the two doctors that took hold of my arm and started toying with it, and just kind of giggled as they discussed with each other the best way to do this. All of a sudden, there was a crunch, and my wittle shoulder was back where it was supposed to be. I honestly didn't feel a thing. One of the doctors asked if I was okay, and I think I just kind of grinned and drooled back at him.
They kept me in A and E for a couple of hours while the morphine wore off, then I got a taxi home.
What a fecking way to spend a Saturday morning.
I haven't been around as much as I'd like for a while, mainly due to work going crazy. On the one hand that's a good thing, because it provides my wallet with even more people that will eventually pay me (only after I threaten to take them to court for non-payment, of course). On the other hand, it leaves me with little time to enjoy all the lovely things I like to do outside of work.
I have been training though. It's hot(ish) in England at the moment, so climbing into a gi, and sweating buckets with other masochists in a dojo is the order of the day. This was actually what I was doing on Saturday morning. Lots of hot, sweaty matwork. The guy I was partnered with has something of a reputation for wanton brutality, so I wasn't too happy about the situation. Everything started off in a civilised manner though, and I was actually beginning to enjoy myself despite the fact this gentleman looks like all the football hooligans in the world combined into one huge, misshapen body. I really shouldn't have let my guard down, because I ended up with my shoulder locked and my face being driven into the mat. Ouch.
One sacred rule in any grappling-related martial art, is that if your opponent taps out or goes limp (yep - just like Fight Club), you release them and back off. And, believe me - I was tapping. I was tapping my little heart out. Because that shoulder-lock was agony. So what did the neanderthal on the other end of the lock do? Why, he continued to apply pressure. The twat. He actually applied just enough pressure to dislocate my shoulder. And out it came. Pop. THEN he let me go. Some people are good with dislocations. They can put up with the excruciating agony and take the pain stoically. I'm not one of those people. I was shrieking and swearing like a banshee. Obviously the class was stopped and my instructor came over and tried to suss out what had happened. The shoulder-popping wanker pleaded ignorance of course, but his reputation told a different story, and he was banished from the dojo there and then. I probably would have found that incredibly satisfying, if all the wrong bones weren't scraping against one another in my upper body. Off I went to the hospital. I have to say, I didn't wait long to be seen and treated. People in this country slag off our free healthcare a lot, and yes, there are problems with it - but by gum, when you need them - they're there for you. Anyways - they starting filling me with gas and air (essentially pure oxygen and a strong painkiller mixed up), which makes you incredibly high and all smiley. Which was wonderful. They then tried to pop my shoulder back into place, which was a no-go. It had been properly wrenched out of place and needed more than one person manipulating it, to get it back into it's socket. Great. This was a problem shoulder, anyway, having been dislocated a couple of times before - now it was turning into a catastrophic shoulder. So the doctor tells me this is going to be really, really painful and recommends I have some morphine as well as the gas and air. Bear in mind that I'm all smiley and high at this point and will agree to anything. So, they pump me full of morphine, and in half and hour with the combined effects of that and the gas and air, I really was on another planet. I could barely focus on the two doctors that took hold of my arm and started toying with it, and just kind of giggled as they discussed with each other the best way to do this. All of a sudden, there was a crunch, and my wittle shoulder was back where it was supposed to be. I honestly didn't feel a thing. One of the doctors asked if I was okay, and I think I just kind of grinned and drooled back at him.
They kept me in A and E for a couple of hours while the morphine wore off, then I got a taxi home.
What a fecking way to spend a Saturday morning.
Much better to just watch a Jackie Chan flick or something.
Also, make sure you get your quotient of sweet, sweet painkillers!