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Good luck Stevie.

 

My DVT treatment is going well and my calf is almost normal but they want to follow-up with a couple of tests to see if there's an underlying cause - my paranoia is sure they're going to find somenthing from a House episode which only 20 humans have ever had.

Cheers, good luck with yours too. I'm pretty relaxed about it just now, am sure that could change though.

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Goodwood L15 performing horrendously

I had that 2/5 fav in me lucky 15 like a mug, what a finish, jocky just taking the piss though. I don't get how a £159k race can only have four horses competing though.

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How does that work? Do they paralyse it and then start asking you questions or something?

Aye. Sounds ridiculous, but it's paralysed for two minutes, and they start asking me if I love mackems or such questions no doubt.

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That's mental. In every sense of the word.

 

Listen, good luck with it all. Keep us updated to the extent that you want to. Hope it all goes to plan, and you're back on your feet as soon as possible after the op.

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Aye. Sounds ridiculous, but it's paralysed for two minutes, and they start asking me if I love mackems or such questions no doubt.

woman-doctor-hospital-16918946.jpg

'Ok, Steven, it's Dr Split-Arse here, we're going to start off with a simple question........1. Which club has the fattest fans? 2. Which clubs fans are the biggest Mugs? Steven.......Steven......ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!!!!'

 

 

 

Good luck! :good:

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woman-doctor-hospital-16918946.jpg

'Ok, Steven, it's Dr Split-Arse here, we're going to start off with a simple question........1. Which club has the fattest fans? 2. Which clubs fans are the biggest Mugs? Steven.......Steven......ANSWER THE QUESTION!!!!!!'

 

 

 

Good luck! :good:

:lol:

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RE WADA Testing



Hi Steve



On Thursday night you can have some supper, but you shouldn’t eat after midnight on Thursday.



Before coming into the hospital on Friday morning, can you ring WARD 43, number is 0191 282 6043 to check they have a bed.



Try to arrive about 9.00/9.30



I will come down and see you at about 10.30/11.00 and will explain what is going to happen, and what to expect during the procedure.



It is likely to happen about lunchtime or early afternoon.



Often when you come back you are initially a bit drowsy.



Later on you will be really hungry.



If you want to give me a mobile or I can get numbers from friends/family on Friday, I will let them know when you are likely to need pies/sandwiches.



I will come back in afternoon and explain the results to you.



We have to keep you overnight on Friday, but you will be fit to go home on Saturday morning.



Probably best not to play football till mid week, but might be fine by Monday/Tuesday.



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They got wires from my right armpit sort of area, across my chest and into my heart. Felt a bit unpleasant, but no big drama. Yours has a bit further to go like and a meatier destination!

 

Main thing to remember is these people do this shit day in and day out. This is to them what picking piss soaked grannies up from Asda is to CT, or sharing a fondue on the banks of Lake Geneva is to Chez. Piece of piss.

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I googled it and apparently "disinhibition is common" during the procedure. I kind of wish HMHM hadn't put the phrase Dr Split-Arse in your head. :lol:

Aye, if we're being honest, the best case scenario is Stevie comes out of this absolutely fine and says something fucking mental to the doctor.

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He mentions in his email that hyperphagia (excessive hunger) will result post procedure. I think it's only fair to warn your lass that hypersexuality is also a possibility according to Wikipedia.

 

You're gonna be walking out the hospital going "I'm *thrust* fucking starving *thrust*"

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Found out the latest crack from the hospital. I'm in on Friday. They stick a tube in your groin, all through your body and in to your brain to see how much of the memory is fucked. Oh dear. What a life. My actual op won't be till August 14.

All the best, mate. 14th is right round the corner. You'll be fighting fit for Villa away

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The ruined Benedictine priory and castle on the headland were at their most colourful, dressed in bunting for the Mouth of the Tyne Festival. A lively onshore breeze ruffled flags flying from the walls, sunlight sparkled on the sea and drifts of red valerian flowers on the steep slopes below the priory added to the gaiety. Even the kittiwake colony on the cliffs under the old coastguard station seemed more raucous than usual. Out on the Tyne the pilot boat sped out to rendezvous with a ferry waiting to enter the river on a rising tide.

 

The daily search for food by a kestrel, with worn plumage and missing wing and tail feathers, went on uninterrupted. Several times we watched its efforts as it circled over the headland, descended in hovers then turned away to begin again. Finally, when it seemed about to stoop on prey, our attention was diverted towards the sea by wisps of mist drifting past. First the ferry, then the lighthouse, pier, cliffs and priory, in quick succession, vanished into dense grey fog. A sea fret that had lurked offshore since early morning had blown in, quenching sunshine with swirling, cloying dampness.

 

We could hear the rhythmic rumble of the ferry’s engines and the intermittent blare of her foghorn as she ghosted past in the fog, groping her way upriver, guided by radar and the skill of the river pilot. As she approached North Shields fish quay, the wind direction shifted and the fog, which had lasted 20 minutes, began to clear as quickly as it had arrived.

 

The pier, lighthouse and priory materialised and the grounded kestrel launched itself from the walls to resume its hunt. It seemed that even its acute raptor vision could not penetrate the murk, leaving us wondering how these hovering hunters fare when the landscape is blanketed in fog for days on end.

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The ruined Benedictine priory and castle on the headland were at their most colourful, dressed in bunting for the Mouth of the Tyne Festival. A lively onshore breeze ruffled flags flying from the walls, sunlight sparkled on the sea and drifts of red valerian flowers on the steep slopes below the priory added to the gaiety. Even the kittiwake colony on the cliffs under the old coastguard station seemed more raucous than usual. Out on the Tyne the pilot boat sped out to rendezvous with a ferry waiting to enter the river on a rising tide.

 

The daily search for food by a kestrel, with worn plumage and missing wing and tail feathers, went on uninterrupted. Several times we watched its efforts as it circled over the headland, descended in hovers then turned away to begin again. Finally, when it seemed about to stoop on prey, our attention was diverted towards the sea by wisps of mist drifting past. First the ferry, then the lighthouse, pier, cliffs and priory, in quick succession, vanished into dense grey fog. A sea fret that had lurked offshore since early morning had blown in, quenching sunshine with swirling, cloying dampness.

 

We could hear the rhythmic rumble of the ferry’s engines and the intermittent blare of her foghorn as she ghosted past in the fog, groping her way upriver, guided by radar and the skill of the river pilot. As she approached North Shields fish quay, the wind direction shifted and the fog, which had lasted 20 minutes, began to clear as quickly as it had arrived.

 

The pier, lighthouse and priory materialised and the grounded kestrel launched itself from the walls to resume its hunt. It seemed that even its acute raptor vision could not penetrate the murk, leaving us wondering how these hovering hunters fare when the landscape is blanketed in fog for days on end.

Marijuana, ladies and gentlemen.

Edited by Inochi
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