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TWTWTW was a television program during my years of English boarding school, 1962-63.
It was good British satire, presented by David Frost who I saw often years later, rushing about on Concorde.
When I have had a questionable week, I always remember that program. I’m surprised the not-so-holy nuns allowed us to watch it, but perhaps I only saw it when I was staying with relatives.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to British humour, even before the days of political correctness.
Surely we need the ability to be able to laugh at ourselves, to not take ourselves so seriously?
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Maybe I’m just an old fart.
A while ago, I wrote a poem…
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Whinges, twinges,
*Television Crime-show binges.
Signs that one
Is coming undone.
My brain’s OK
If not quite au fait
With what is new every day.
I creak
And speak
In an off-hand squeak.
My eyes are blurred
My bones are spurred.
My hearing’s soft
My balance is off.
And if the kitchen counter’s not getting taller
Then I must have become very much smaller.
Oh me, oh my
Anno Domini.
Or, if you prefer:
Oh my, oh me
Anno Domini
*Watching crime-shows seems popular with people of my generation, but since the end of the very excellent French series Spirals, I’ve gone off this pastime yet somehow the hours are filled each day.
My conclusion is that as you age, days actually get shorter without anyone noticing.
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There has been a degree of tedium in life lately.
Today, my mouse was hurled across the room, but it was the old one that I was attempting un-successfully to re-activate, because Grant had taken the other off to a safe place, in the hope of rescuing it from a similar fate.
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It being my only hope of doing anything on my pc, I knew better than to get rough with it, so I took took myself off instead for a walk around the garden.
Hearing the call of a grosbeak sadly contemplating the empty suet holder at the garage, I decided a second serving was in order and I walked over to fetch one out, then discovered that the supply which was there yesterday was now not.
Such a small thing, but when every other thing that could possibly go wrong already has, it doesn’t take much to irritate.
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So I marched back to the house and grabbed an armful of the rotten (because by now everything had become rotten) things and stomped back to the garage with them.
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Thence, I progressed to the apple trees.
Good news there, at least.
Last year both trees were extremely sad, all but dead and they have recovered splendidly.
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So this year there will be fruit for the deer.
If the apples don’t all fall off prematurely.
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Squirrels shrieked at me from above, so I continued my meander and the thought occurred to me that at least another recent medical treatment gave me back the ability to wander about thus without pain.
This is no small thing to be grateful for despite other, shall we say disappointments.
At a very young age I learned to protect against the bite of disappointment by lowering my expectations.
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It’s hard to see though, how I could have expected what happened this past Friday.
More than a year after complaining of discomfort from a tonsil cyst, the physician agreed that it was “absolutely appropriate” to have it removed.
Perhaps I should have taken note of the date, April 1st.
And the date of “surgery”, a certain odious person’s birthday.
The only thing I worried about however, was actually getting to the hospital for the procedure, given car issues.
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In the long weeks leading up to the surgery, the cyst had become seriously bothersome as the tonsil itself swelled. There was no concern of it being anything sinister but at times I felt I would choke.
What I could not possibly anticipate was that having discussed with me removal of a cyst from my right tonsil, the practitioner would order removal of a polyp from my left vocal cord, that she had not even told me about.
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For insurance purposes, all procedures have to be carefully categorised and the lady who made the arrangements had to hunt about a bit, so I didn’t think to question what she wrote.
At each stage before the surgery and there were at least 8, I was asked what I expected and I said clearly “micro-laryngoscopy and removal of cyst from right tonsil.”
Smiles and nods each time.
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All hooked up to an IV, I waited most patiently for 3 hours while the surgeon was delayed with the previous procedure. The anaesthesiologist even commented about my calm demeanour!
It’s not good, I think, to be next in line when the surgeon has been having difficulties, but this had nothing to do with matters, other than that he had time only to poke his head in before rushing back off to complete his notes.
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It had been my intention to ask him a couple of questions and perhaps the discrepancy would have come to light then, in which case it could have saved him the 20 minutes of examining my vocal cord and not removing the polyp.
Upon waking from that lovely doze, there was no pain and somehow I had expected at least slight soreness.
Maybe that’s why, when I got home, I went straight away to a mirror. Imagine my…I am at loss for an appropriate word…when I saw that the cyst had not been removed.
How does one prepare for that sort of disappointment?
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After two days, I am still trying to figure out where I went wrong, because I know it will be made to look as if it was my fault.
And that is why I shall cancel the follow-up appointment and have nothing more to do with that clinic.
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Still needing to be rid of the lump in my throat, I searched for another specialist and much to my surprise I was able not only to find one (in Clifton Park, no less) but to get an appointment within 2 weeks which is unheard of.
And it’s with a doctor and not a physician’s assistant.
It is unclear to me how a PA can fill in for a doctor, but based on all my experience I shall not be fobbed off in the future.
It is obviously just one more way for medical conglomerates to rake in more money.
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The frustration of working in such a system is unimaginable. I have witnessed it all degenerate, bit by bit, as computers moved in and absorbed increasing amounts of the time one used to have face-to-face with a doctor, not an assistant.
Yet my complaints are insignificant compared to many.
It took some doing, but I found a very good pain management practice and a perfectly wonderful doctor who fixed a problem foot in mere minutes.
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I have not yet calmed down, but I’m working on it.
Next week’s heatwave won’t help a great deal but according to the oracle, it will abate by next weekend when that will be the week that was.
I remember the TV show, and the theme song, which was sung by Millicent Martin. The only thing comparable on TV now is the weekly comedy quiz on the BBC, ‘Have I got News For You’, which ridicules the week’s news, politicians, and the royals. It has been going for years, and is always very ‘near the mark’ when it comes to insults and swearing. I love it of course, but have no idea if you can watch it in America. https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006mkw3
Best wishes, Pete.
I was able to get it Pete. I don’t know many of the people but it still amused me. Thank you!
Thank you, Carolyn, for your interesting/frightening update! What you describe happened in that clinic is frightening! No wonder you are facing the possibility of having The President running the country from prison! I can only hope that the new clinic will be excellent and make you feel like new!
Joanna
At least in ye olden days the good thing about tonsils was that they gave you ice cream afterwards. Funny to think of a time when ice cream was such a treat that it would make up for being in hospital for a “procedure”. I remember that’s how everyone talked about it.
TWTWTW was very entertaining for a while it was a particular time in British politics. And certainly more wholesome that the modern mantra TWAW (said the raven) etc.
Your observations on health care are as always spot on and your commentary on the creatures always interesting.
Here’s for getting through the heatwave.
No doubt whatsoever, as we get older days do get shorter and time passes more quickly, chocolate bars get smaller, the taste of food is radically altered, and politicians in the UK get younger (in the USA they get older!)
Oh my, I’m actually speechless … I’m not sure how long it should take one to calm down after a clinic visit like this one. It’s true, as we get older, the days/weeks/months/years are definitely shorter – is it because we don’t have as much fun anymore as we did when we were young or is it because we’re just more wise and content now?