Appendix: the story so far!

So let's recap. Diffuse stomach pains on evening of 4/2/11. Facebook status whinging about same on 4th, 5th and 6th. Message from Rahul on 6th. Saw GP, referred to Macc A&E, had perforated appendix removed 7th. Out 8th. Back in on evening of 16th, as dressing dark with "blood" - actually huge infection of faeculent gunk which was squeezed out onto three A3-size sheets of medical papery stuff. Two different anti-biotics (one every four hours, one every six hours) from 16-22. Released with oral anti-biotics. Daily dressings at home, then every second/third day, then dressings at local small hospital/ Would have been at my GP's practice, but one of their nurses was on holiday, and it proved impossible. Back to Macc 14/3 for Outpatient's Appointment. Doc says "no need for dressings. We'll pop these little sticky white strips over the wound. With any luck you'll get a much smaller scar. Go see your doctor to have this removed in a fortnight." Had already been told by someone (and didn't mind one whit!) that I'd have a big scar. Had to have dressing changed on 21/2, because it was getting raggedy. Anyone who believes one of these dressings will stick to a fat man's stomach for a fortnight is misinformed. Nurse cleaned it, removed the layers of sticky white strips (she thought there were rather a lot of them), and popped on a new dressing.

I couldn't get an appointment with my GP for this Monday; this morning was the earliest. Saw him. He couldn't understand why the Outpatient doc had passed me to him and not to a nurse. "Ooh, you don't want a dressing from me." Passed me over to the nurse. She took the dressing off. Conversation amounted to: might be infected, might not. Come back Friday afternoon and the nurse then will take a swab to check. It's been far too long for there to be a thin scar. A big fat one is the only possibility. I asked "Two weeks?" She answered: "Oh, less than that, I should think." I confessed that I have been getting told it'll be fine in two weeks for two months.

It might sound like I'm griping about the medical care or the personnel. I'm not. They have been great. I don't blame anyone for anything. The infection was chance. The two weeks thing is clearly something one says to shut up patients. Maybe it's even true in most cases. I'm just hugely frustrated that I can't exercise, go get a job, start dieting, or - which I would like to do now as a form of catharsis - go smash something up! I have had my whole life on hold until about 2/2/11 because I was terrified of strangers, couldn't work, didn't want to live. In desperation I went and saw a lady about EFT, and in one session, I was pretty much cured after two decades of being various levels of wrecked. But two days later the appendix goes boom. I didn't want to do anything for five years, then as soon as I want to do something I can't do anything!

I don't think that the English language is sufficiently evocative for me to express the frustration, vexation, irritation, annoyance I feel at this. On a day-to-day basis I can happily treat this as a blackly comic series of disasters. Today, almost two months after the original operation, when I finally hoped I might get free of this blasted nonsense, and be able to start doing things again, I find I am still stuck with this enforced inactivity, and I am narked. I can't even go for a walk as it's tipping it down. I must admit, that does make me laugh! Ho hum. Another few days. Maybe another round of anti-biotics. But then. But then you'll be amazed! I will soar to the heights! Not in an office. My car's exhaust had developed a corroded hole in the two months I hadn't driven it, so it sounded as though someone had attached a megaphone to it. Dad drove me to pick up my car, and his was at one everyone says is a normal temperature, about 20 Celsius. Bugger off, you lunatics! If I was in that an hour I'd be drifting off to Snooky-Wooky Bye-Byes Land. I felt a mite drowsy after ten minutes.

So I shall find a job sellotaping ice cubes to my body or something. That gag copyright Jim Davis, if my brother's memory's right.

Walls and gun emplacements

A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act III, Scene I (apparently):

Some man or other must present Wall: and let him
have some plaster, or some loam, or some rough-cast
about him, to signify wall; and let him hold his
fingers thus, and through that cranny shall Pyramus
and Thisby whisper.

Not too bad for old Shakespeare - enraged English students, forgive me my dislike of the Bard. I am yet recovering from my introduction to him at school approximately one half-life-so-far ago!

I have just been prettying up some walls. A spot where the matte has not overcome the gloss varnish only becomes apparent when you take a photograph! Tsk!











All these pieces Wargames Illustrated has lately been running on battlefield defences in Flames of War have clearly been running through my unconscious mind. It was only a few minutes ago that I realised the evident genesis of this thing I've just knocked up. These are the preliminary stages. I will slap on more plasticard offcuts, base and undercoat the devil, and then cover it with camo netting. If it looks passable, then I've a load more of those old Leman Russ lascannons I can turn into Heavy Weapons teams. The chap is solely for scale. The impression will be that the fellows within are hidden by the netting.

Terrain: How to keep cool in industry Part I I

Bear with me. I did a lot of this some weeks ago, but was unable to write it up in a timely fashion.

To recap, having glued the strips of plasticard to the corners, the piece looks about like this.



I curved the strips round the corners and glued them in place. Because of the curving, you will either have to hold these things in place forever or do the sensible thing: weigh them down and go do something else for a few hours.



Once that is done, glue a few things onto the sides to suggest an industrial appearance. It should look like this. It's tempting to overdo these things and cover the whole side in detail. I find this is only making work for oneself.





I undercoated the piece with Halford's yellow primer, then applied a coat of red oxide paint. I wanted to give the impression of peeling paint, so I used a technique I have seen widely suggested. Once the coat of red oxide was dry, I took a Brillo pad and smeared toothpaste on it. I then dabbed that all over the coat of red oxide. To ensure a good contrast with the red, I chose a light colour of paint. It's fairly lightly and messily applied as you can see, which is in part because I wanted to suggest wear and tear, and in part because I was in no mood to be stood around applying layers of paint! Once the paint was applied, and had dried, I used the brillo pad to scrape off the paint which had adhered to the toothpaste. The instructions I've seen suggest removing the paint within a few hours, but in my case I think it was a day or so! It looked like this.





I then applied a layer of gloss varnish, and then a few transfers to give some grounding to the piece, and to fill in the large blank spaces. I used Micro Sol (or was it Set?) to ensure they fixed securely to the varnished surface. Once they were dry. I used a pin and the Brillo pad (again) to worry the transfers. Having done so I applied another coat of varnish to seal the transfers in. I applied a layer of black paint to the interior, but did not want to risk it marking the exterior.





The most part of the work done, I then set to painting and further weathering the piece. I shall cover that in Part III.

Lazarus or Frankenstein-like, I return

There have been no updates because I have been recuperating. For a lot of the time that involved sitting or lying down downstairs. Between the evening of the 16th and afternoon of the 22nd it involved going back into hospital, having a massive infection treated with two kinds of antibiotics and this, that and the other. I'm now back on my feet, and had a two-mile walk yesterday, which is the furthest I've gone on my feet since before this all kicked off on 4th February. Surgery takes a surprising amount out of one. At times one even lacks the energy to read.

On the modelling front, I have some new and old ideas. Of course, things will still progress slowly, with the excuse that I have a hole in me still. Did you know that there's nothing like a doctor wiping decayed gunk out of my wound with his gloved fingers to make me tightly gasp "Good Lord!" The more stressful and unpleasant the situation the more restrained my language seems. I nearly ski'd off a hillside a few years ago, tightly remarking "Jumping Jiminy!" instead of anything stronger. Anyway, my plan is for some self-propelled guns, tank-hunters and so forth. I have drawn up a list of eight or nine variations, and mean to get cracking on one soonish. I will also finish that fan with all seemly speed.

Until next time!