It was a real toss up whether to blog about this or not. Is this something I should or shouldn’t post about? What is my blog about? Writing, living in Bangkok, stuff about me. Anyway, this is the part of expat life that scares the bejeebers out of me, so maybe I should say it.
Last Thursday night my Dad (who’s 80th birthday I blogged about here) had a fall in the garden while he took Leo out for his last of the evening pee (the dog’s, not my Dad’s.)
It was a 999 job. He was hurt so my mum and sister weren’t too keen to move him without help. The paramedics thought he’d broken his hip; my Dad, a retired doctor didn’t think so. It strikes me as very odd that as he lay on the gravel, very clearly a patient, my Dad was diagnosing himself.
An x-ray failed to be sure. So they scanned him. It turned out that he has broken his ischium, which is part of the pelvis. This is better news than breaking his hip which would have meant an operation with a general anaesthetic which would not be safe because of his range of medical issues. They don’t do anything for a broken ischium except pain relief and physio.
Sometimes I really hate being away from home.