Feathers?

Some people feel body malfunctions should be kept private but its not like I need adult nappies, well at least not at this stage, I am unlikely to embarrass anyone by asking them to help take out the preparation H from the fridge, and give me a hand applying it. Sooner or later it will be obvious that somethings up, if the surgery all goes as planned, I will still be very wobbly if people understand why, then I don't have endure church going folks tutting because they think I have used vodka in my cornflakes.

The combination of the British stiff upper lip and the Japanese inscrutability probably helped my parent be pretty unfazed about the news. Either that or they suspected something was amiss for years but never mentioned it, like my brother said "It explains a lot".

I will probably be in a wheel chair for a while, its great when flying you really get the royal treatment, but once out in the real world its strange how people don't want to look at you, not so much that they are afraid they might catch the same virus that prevents you from using your legs, but more due to the social conditioning that its rude to stare, and being in a wheel chair really puts you out there. The avoiding eye contact game you normally find in a tube train is everywhere, the lack of Kenny G lift music really drives it home. Its great when someone comes up to you and say that's looks a bit painful, it breaks the morgue like atmosphere, you can talk about it.

Years ago a colleague of mine was being introduced to a friend who was wheel chair bound because of a car accident. Seeing the chair my colleague spoke very slowly, and really hammed up the lip motion like some Christmas pantomime. I still cringe just thinking about it.

One school of thought is to pretend people who are obviously not normal are perfectly normal, bit like being told never to mention the war when you meet Germans. When I first met old Gamy legs, he turned up in a car and I just had to ask how he drives, he was more than happy to show me how he controls it with just his hands.

Since my news has slowly done the rounds, even people I don't even know comes up to me and ask how I am feeling. This year my birthday wishes came not just from the credit card and pest control company, but from folks I have not heard from in years. Even the cashier from the toy shop offered to help me get fit for the operation, she is a jogger and asked if I would like join her running group. Anyone would think I just won the lottery, its gives you great faith in humanity again.

We made it to Los Angeles and there was only 4o of us on the jumbo size plane, There is no denying the new 80cm seats are wide, but boy are they stiff and flat which means you slide around like Torvil and Dean. Why don't they just give everyone hammocks?

The US immigration must have attended some sort of courtesy training course, they have figured out not everyone in the world speaks English. Even the walls have official notices stating how government staff should treat visitors. In the past I have seen them yelling at some poor Japanese business man to get behind a yellow line, and when he didn't understand they just yelled louder, and became very aggressive towards him what kind of welcome to a guest of your country is that? Imagine it the other way round a Japanese immigration officers yelling in Japanese to an American holiday maker. They are the front line and its the first impression of a place that makes the biggest impact, this time I have to admit they were pleasant to deal with.

We rented a car, the top of the range Lincoln Navigator, the dashboard had dials that wouldn't look out of place in a Sopworth Camel, and like the local cheese cake it was the size of a house. Just turning the ignition key probably produced enough green house gasses to fill a zeppelin, but when in Rome do as the Romans do. The first port of call after the hotel and toilet was the hospital to meet and pick my surgical team. The waiting room was a good indicator of the stages to be expected. There was the melancholic and newly diagnosed, wobbly old timers with canes and dark glasses, a number of folks with very sore 8 inch crescent scars behind their ears, and young girl in a sorry state, slumped in wheel chair with a bandage that was bigger than her head. Her view of the world was seen though a clear eye patch filled with goo.

Once in the doctor's room which looked disappointingly like any other doctors room from world war 2. Maybe I had too high expectations, visualizing a place with lots of lackeys in white boiler suits and clip boards. The place was supposed to look like a cross between Gods living room and the bridge of the Star Trek Enterprise. At least the building looks like it was designed by an architect with a bit of pride in his work.

With my eyes shut the nurse made me touch my nose, hop on one foot, clap my hands, then she caresses my cheeks with a feather. I am sure Henry VIII cod piece wearing physician would have done the same test. What happened to all the Arthur C. Clarke high tech tests? are there still medical supply stores that stocks feathers? probably on the shelf between the leeches and pointy black hats. During my recent dental check in Singapore I had X-rays carried out by some very impressive robots in a white room. Like a prop from space odyssey 2001 it spun around my head, though alone in the room I was accompanied by a creepy emotionless female voice. The machine probably sits there blinking at night wondering if it should fry the next human. I would feel I was getting better treatment if a moonlighting car welding robot dressed in all white plastic stabbed the feather in my eye.