And our first Christmas holiday in our new place is done. It was a crazy, challenging, joyous, amazing, frustrating, wonderful time. And now it draws to a close and we prepare to find a rhythm and routine for the new year.
After a very bad start to our stay, we seem to have turned a corner. We were able to move out of our little temporary space into our larger and cosier space the week of Christmas. Because who doesn’t flit (read: move house) 4 days before Christmas! But when you only have 6 cases worth of stuff plus a few boxes off odds and sods you have accumulated over the first month, it doesn’t take long.
What takes longer is learning new stuff all over again: how to work another microwave; which is the best setting on the washing machine; how to keep the bedroom warm; etc. Since everything is still new, we have no habits to break. And we were lucky enough to have one of our two wonderful children to visit. After many changes to plane tickets to avoid the massive winter storm in the US, Jesse arrived at our tiny Aberdeen airport just before Christmas. We had a week of eating too much, walking a lot, visiting folks, setting up the apartment, trying to cook family favourites in a still unfamiliar kitchen, and many other adventures. We ate fish and chips, take-away Chinese and Indian, several bar lunches, and entire tin of Cadbury’s Heroes.
And then after a week of endless eating, drinking, playing games and watching all the Shrek movies, we are back to being just the two of us. Now to figure out what “normal” might look like – once I actually go back to work that is. I *love* the fact that the university just closes for a fortnight so there’s no guilt about taking time off. And I might actually be a little bored by the time I get back to the office. 🙂
But for now, I share some photos of our joyful holiday and hope that you and yours had a similar wonderful time. And of course, I wish you all the happiest of new years!
You may have noticed an interuption in the planned cadence of posts. The original idea was that once a week, probably on a Monday, I would wax eloquent (and hopfully somewhat humerously) about how things were going as we settle into a new place, a new routine, a new life. Following that schedule, I would have posted a short update last week about some new milestones: a new car purchase, a row with the local boat club on the river, etc. However as the poet says, the best laid schemes….
Instead, we dealt with tragedy. Facebook friends may already know that we lost our beloved Buddy to a traffic accident last Monday. While on our usual morning walk, our angry little man was so incensed by the pernicious precence of a bull dog across the busy street that he absolutely had to take action. That action, unfortunately, was to try to get to the offending canine by running across the road in front of a truck. I was unable to reel him back in time and while we were able to get him to the vet, he had internal bleeding that would have required surgery. He went into cardiac arrest before the surgery could be performed. We are heartbroken, devestated, and gutted as folks around here would say.
But with nought but grief and pain, we try to move forward to find the promised joy. So to avoid an utter maudlin manuscript, I’ll instead regale you with the resulting interaction with the National Health Service. While I was safely away from the truck, the hand holding the lead was fairly badly damaged from the pull of the cord, the subsequent fall, and the unfortunate bite I took when trying to get Buddy to the vet. It was my left hand (which I would say contributed to the event since I am useless with that hand and couldn’t retract the lead in time but nevermind) so I still had use of my exceptionally dominant appendage but the swelling and pain in the left had was not to be ignored. Although I did try to ignore it. But the lovely man who owns our AirBnb flat has a partner who is a nurse so she stopped by the flat and pronounced it in need of medical care. So the adventure began.
Instead of heading to the A&E (emergency room in the US), there is a national triage number to call for assessment and further direction. I suspect this was instituted during covid to keep waiting rooms from becoming superspreader locations but it is still in place and IMHO fairly effective. I phoned about 8am to see what to do next. Yes, I had to wait 20ish minutes for a nurse but then I was deluged with questions and given a 10:30 appointment at the Minor Injuries unit at the Aberdeen Royal Infirmary. I arrived a bit early, masked up, and was seen promptly at 10:30 by a clinician who took all my details, cleaned up the various bloody and pussy places and went to fetch the nurse practitioner. To be honest, it took Frank longer to find a parking space by the hospital than it took me to be seen.
The NP took further details, did some mobility and other tests to asses the damage and became concerned that there might be a fracture in my wrist. She diagrammed the injuries (on a piece of paper with a drawing of a hand!) and then sent me off to Xray. A short wait there and I had 5 snaps taken of the hand and wrist. Return down the hall to the minor injuries unit where Frank had finally joined me (with a coffee thank goodness!) Another short wait (enough time to finish the latte) and I was back in the treatment room to get the verdict that there didn’t seem to be any fracture but a splint (provided) and bandages for the deep laceration on my pinkie (provided) would be necessary for the next 5 days. In addition, a full course of antibiotics (provided) to treat any infection resulting from the dog bite would be necessary as a precaution. I was done by noon.
I don’t claim that this was a typical encounter but I have zero complaints about my treatment. I have MANY complaints about the fact that I didn’t know the generic name for Augmentin – which is what they gave me – so I couldn’t ask for an alternative. If you’ve ever taken it, you can feel my pain. The first two days involved digestive distress that is too disgusting to commit to words. A course of probiotics has been most helpful but taking the last dose today will be an absolute joy. (Not that I mind the nearly half a stone of “weight” I lost from the rapid passing of all solids through my system!)
A few more days of healing and the visible marks of trauma will be gone. The invisible pain will stay forever.
So as a tribute, here are some of my favorite photos of Buddy Cannon, Beagle/Jack Russell mix, taken from us too soon. Smile down on us Budster. We miss you.
The Cannon Chronicles 