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"Trouble afoot"

Well it all started a couple of months ago when my Uncle Bert was taken ill. I'd just lost my job at the jam factory, so I said I'd help out on Bert's farm until he was feeling better. It all went well at first, my cousin Paul, Bert's son, was also helping out, and we were having quite a laugh together, right up until it was time to let the cows out of the cattle shed to graze.

To stop the cows getting out before we want them to, there was this cattle grid. We lowered this metal ramp down onto it, so the cows could walk over it. I was making some daft joke about the cows, 'pull the udder one', I think I said. Yeah, I can see you smiling at that. I'll tell you what though, I wasn't smiling when I felt the pressure of this ramp coming down on my right foot. I yelled, and Paul looked round, all dumb like, not knowing what was going on. Only my yell got the cows in a panic, and they all darted out of the shed, putting their weight on top of the already considerable pressure of that metal ramp on my foot.

Do you know how much the average cow weighs?

No, don't go to answer, it's a rhetorical question, I'll tell you.

A Holstein cow can weigh up to 1500 pounds, but these were Jerseys, and they tend to be smaller, usually no more than 1000 pounds, which is a hell of a lot of weight, especially when this whole herd of cows is crossing this ramp.

Anyway, I was screaming, Paul was panicking because the cows were getting so worked up, he thought it would turn their milk sour, but I didn't care about that, my foot had been crushed, and was still trapped. Well I couldn't take the pain any longer, and I passed out, waking up later that day in hospital.

'Mr Dickenson' they say, that's me by the way,

'Mr Dickenson, your foot is in a terrible state, every bone in your right foot has suffered incredible damage.'

Do you know how many bones there are in the foot?

Hang on, I can see your mouth going to move, it's another rhetorical question.

There's 26. 28 if you count the two sesamoid bones at the base of the big toe. All damaged beyond repair. That David Beckham broke a metatarsal and the whole nation took notice, I broke all of mine as well as all the other bones in my foot, and I get nothing at all.

Well, there was that piece in 'The Herald', you might of seen it, no probably not, we're not in 'Herald' circulation area here, are we? Probably best you didn't see it, they spelt my name wrong. They got Stewart right, which is good because people often spell it the other way, with a U-A, rather than E-W-A, so they got that right, but they spelt Dickenson wrong, put an I where the E is. Can you believe that? I mean, I know some people do spell it with the 'I', but that's not the way of my family.

I'm going a bit off track here, wasting your time, sorry about that, I'll get back to my foot. So the doctors and nurses are saying that it's irreparable, and ask if I'd consider a foot transplant operation. Well I jumped at the chance, well, no I didn't jump, I couldn't with my foot the way it was. Well, I could probably jump, as it's all in the knees, but the landing would hurt like bloody hell. So anyway, I agreed to the operation, but I was told I'd have to wait for a donor.

I went home, had to use crutches to get around, as my battered club of a foot that remained couldn't be used at all. I couldn't very well dance, not that I could before but, hey, I couldn't even do any of my old moves. No, honestly, it was awful, I couldn't even go to the shops, or down to the pub without being in considerable discomfort, I couldn't even drive, and I do love to drive, as I guess you can tell by that sticker on my windscreen.

'My Other Car Is A Jag'

That's a hoot, isn't it? So yeah, I couldn't even drive, so when I was called into the hospital for the operation last month I was over the moon.

The operation went smoothly, well it seemed so to me, I went in, was put under anaesthetic, and woke up with a brand new foot, whether the docs had any trouble, they didn't say to me. It was a size 8, the foot, just like the one I had before, which was great as I didn't have to buy any new shoes. I suppose they try to match up donated feet with people that need them so they get the right size and stuff though, otherwise I could well have ended up with two left feet, that wouldn't have helped the dancing either! Anyway, these doctors tell me to keep using the crutches for a couple of weeks, give the foot a bit of time to heal up, where it had been stitched on, and the bones fused together properly at the ankle. I didn't really understand how it all worked, but apparently the ligaments needed time to readjust to their new elasticity, whatever that meant. My new foot looked great though, and it was good to have a proper pair of feet again.

The thing is though, when I started walking on this foot, after I'd given it the advised time to heal, things didn't quite seem right. I'd be walking down the street, and I would find it leading me places I didn't really want to go. I found myself walking into a sex shop when I was just trying to walk home. I also found myself kicking bits of litter down the street, and I never used to do that, it was like the foot had a life of it's own.

Anyway, this is my first time in a car since the accident, well, as a driver, and the foot did it again! I'm normally the kind of guy that sticks to speed limits, but the foot took over, kept pushing on the pedal, making me go faster than I wanted to.

So that, officer, is the reason I was speeding. Hell, you're lucky I was able to use the power in my thigh to keep the foot off the accelerator, it was trying to make a getaway, I swear it’s cursed, probably used to belong to a racing driver or something, so please, don't give me a ticket!

That would look most unpretty.

BEARDS. wrote:
> I read it about 20 minutes ago. I didn't reply because if I replied to
> every thread I read, I'd have very sore fingers.

I'd be happy with just a "." ;o)

Indeed it is.

By the way, you don't happen to have an high spec computer who's computing potential is very much underused, do you?

VenomByte wrote:
> ThreadViews = ThreadViews +1;
> System.out.println("Excellent post Meka");
>
> //note to self: remember to take occasional breaks from programming
> project

Hmmm, looks like Java?

ThreadViews = ThreadViews +1;
System.out.println("Excellent post Meka");

//note to self: remember to take occasional breaks from programming project

I read it about 20 minutes ago. I didn't reply because if I replied to every thread I read, I'd have very sore fingers.

Well you can have my sympathy then. :o)

I'm not really whining, just popping something, because I want people to read it.

Self promotion etc.

Heck, I just like some attention every now and then.

Stop whining. Only so much pity is allowed on the forums, and at the minute its all reserved for me to apply to myself.

I'm ill, nobody cares. *sob*.

Hey you punks, it's been over 24 hours, and theres only one reply.

You really don't want me to do another one of those posts in which I sulk because I think no body reads my threads, and demand a hit counter, do you?

DO YOU?

Thanks Dr Duck, anyway. :o)

LOL, Genuis
:^)