The Cyberman returns

Having basically organised my bed myself, I can confirm that I'm off to George's tomorrow to have some more metalwork fitted. I trust George's a good deal in all things medical. They have saved the life of two members of my family, and did a pretty good job on me. However, in the field of organisation, they leave a good deal to be desired. The Orthopaedic admissions co-ordinator deserves a mention in dispatches. I am, I believe, an Orthopaedic admission. Her attempts to co-ordinate me stretched as far as failing to let me know that I was coming in, failing to answer the phone for hours on end, and then, after accidentally answering the phone, denying all knowledge, and telling me to phone the bed manager. Who, sportingly, whilst admitting that this was clearly the Orthopaedic admission co-ordinator's job, said that she would help me out if I phoned back having tried to track down my own surgeon. Etc. Etc. I phoned PALS - the patient liason people - as a last resort at 3 o'clock on Friday afternoon, to be met with an answerphone declaring that they shut at 5. To be fair, they phoned back at 4.30 in order to confirm that they couldn't do anything until Monday morning as everybody went home at 4.30 on Friday. Who says the NHS lacks management?

In the meantime, Wills is still in hospital, and Dad is going in for tests on Wednesday. On that day, all three generations of the Hopwood family will be in the hands of the NHS, so I guess I shouldn't complain. especially as I'm still behind with my tax bill.

At least this time my admission is a little more planned than it was when Mr. BMW driver thoughtfully decided to organise my diary for a year or two. I can therefore pack something a little more useful than the unused return ticket, uncharged mobile and spotty hanky that I had in my pockets the last time. This time I shall add a toothbrush to the above list.

I have no idea how long my stay shall be, or what issues surround this new piece of ironmongery. I'm hoping I don't have to sign up to BUPA in order to find out. However, it shouldn't be too long, and I anticipate watching Saturday's football focus at home, contemplating my new robotic broken leg whilst watching Owen Hargreaves contemplate a £20million signing to Man Utd only four months after breaking his.

Hopefully I will be able to walk to my appointment tomorrow. Black ice may be an issue. I'm going to have to pack my masonic trousers again too, though a bare calf will be a bit chilly in the current climate. At least I can look forward to a good scratch at last.

More cyber photos will follow.