This is my seventh day in here. It hasn’t been easy. But I am not complaining. I can walk on the hikoki frame. I bend my left leg, even if it feels like an unbasted chicken drumstick/ swollen baseball bat. I can finally get out of the room (lightbulbed: no natural light; stuck with another person for the entirety beyond this curtain —
which is a world of issues unto itself.)
Today is going to just be a ramble / bitchfest / gratitude diary mainly for selfish reasons just to exPUNGE some of this shit for bedtime catharsis — but also because you might find it interesting and entertaining.
There is a tendency for things to suddenly disappear on here when I am writing on my phone, which could raise my blood pressure to Vesuvial levels- which I definitely don’t need – so I am just going to press publish – now, for example – and update as I go along. If you are looking for a breathlessly sycophantic niche review, go elsewhere. If you feel like the bedridden microneuroses of a ravaged hysteric, look no further.
The State Of Play
Last Thursday I was paralyzed and it was hideous. The jaunty anesthesiologist came to see me for a chat about art – a thing we have started – and to explain why I felt such extreme numbness (she used a particularly strong lumbar spine number because apparently they think I am afraid of pain). This is is not true. I am actually pretty brave in that regard as anyone who knows me will tell you – my physical pain threshold is high, and I don’t complain . Quite strong really ( the man in the next bed thought I was an injured rugby player).
I think they mistake my water obsession – the hospital specifically changed their surgery schedule in order to let me go nil by mouth aquatically for no more than two hours as I said I couldn’t do the surgery otherwise – with bodily feebleness. But I am not the frail type – more a bull in a china shop. People can’t believe that men with broad shoulders can be hypersensitive. But missus I am telling you that they can be.
Anyway, the physios and surgeon are pleased with my progress as is d : he came to see me yesterday and was amazed by the transformation from Friday, when I could hardly move. Yesterday I surprised him for his fifteen minute allowed visit by walking to the lift to greet him.
As I have written before, in more callous counties you would be turfed out after two or three days
HOW
THE FUCK
ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DEAL WITH ALL THIS
BY YOURSELF
?’!!!
It is unimaginable. Here you are treated, nutrifed and rehabilitated until you can walk safely with a cane – a marvellous system for which I have the utmost respect.
Did You Bring Your Intercourse Mat?
When we came in to l’hopital, there were some forms to fill in. Soon d was crying with laughter behind his mask at some of the auto-translations : I thought I would show you.
Have you secured your Oral Pension? Mouth or No Mouth? Mute: silent ? ( yes, I am sharing a room). Final Defecation turned out to be more prophetic than I would have liked it to be, but do feel free to skip this next session – this is meant to be a perfume blog after all.
Prune Wars
Obedience has never been my forte – which I consider a forte. I take matters into my own hands when needed. The food here is excellent quality – a bit mushy, granted, but it’s a hospital – but nutrific to the max and tailor made to each patient and I am going to write a thank you card to the nutritionist – but I CANNOT EAT RICE THREE TIMES A DAY. This has now been rectified – I now have two small bread rolls for breakfast and yoghurt, which is a godsend, I feel so much better. I have the full washoku rice fish wet vegetables miso soup the other two meals – I love how they prepare fish here and it’s great for rebuilding tissue when your knee – the one you were born with, the one you hugged tight to your chin during boring school assemblies as a young child – has been ripped out and thrown in the trash.
Rice, thrice, is a no-no. Even most Nihon-jin vary the carbo once a day – bread, pasta, udon, soba; it becomes real alimentary drudgery – and in some individuals stops up the passages.
Hence the prunes for a bit of slip and slide; dark chocolate (for sanity); nuts because I love them. But the most literal and spectrummy of the nurses saw a stray chocolate wrapper then started going through my bags like an asshole at customs, discovered three bags of cocainr, heroin and methamphetamines – how else was I going to pass the hours – no, I mean prunes and the other goodies – and confiscated the lot.
But Nurse Ratchet, hon, Burning Bush ain’t giving up the prune fight quite so easily : it pleaded with the surgeon the next day to return the evil contraband. Four days in, Chernobyl was avoided.
Vintage Amazone
I am craving perfume and missing my collection.
Interestingly, any thing fragranced smells very different in here; amplified .
This white grapefruit Vaseline ointment I made with Muji essential oil – forbidden – and I don’t want to bother The Other Patient In The Room so have to use it in small quantities – is the best possible thing I could have brought into hospital.
At home it smelled a bit bland and washed out tangerine. In these colourless confines though it smells exactly like a real grapefruit : incredibly invigorating and refreshing – an instant mood booster ( and sometimes, one’s emotions do dip, crikey; have I done the right thing ? will this cobalt implant lead to psychosis, as evidenced in a terrifying Netflix documentary; shouldn’t I have had titanium ? will I really be able to walk again ? Am I going to get my visa in November ? Will I even be able to physically make it into immigration ? When they take the frame and stick away, will I be a quasimodo? Do I really want to be given opioids as painkillers ! Am I going to walk out of here an addict ?…..
So many scared emotions and worries run through your bloodstream and head when you are confined to a curtained hospital bed and can’t even talk on the phone to anyone because of your room partner (a nice diabetic gent in his late sixties in for back surgery tomorrow ; non-racist, easy going, very smiley, but it is awkward not doing how much/ whether I should even be having – conversation is appropriate and how much privacy each of us want and being able to hear every breath, emission, doctor’s explanation)
Scent is a way of bypassing some of this with a sensory immediacy that cuts through crusts of negativity. The pamplemousse is the greatest – but I also love wearing a touch of Nina – didn’t have a shower for four days and was in sudsy H E A V E N yesterday practically ingesting soap I was so eager for it ; on freshly washed skin, the Ricci was a private contentment – although from the bottle, in this context, it smelled darker, more chypric, practically vintage Miss Dior – mossily depraved rather than the holy alabastrine angelic.
Vicarious Hermes
Not being to see the sky, the changes in light, is quite difficult for me. Call it neurodivergence, hypersensitivity, I just think you have to be a moron to prefer closed curtains and electrical lightbulbs when you could – at least visually – be connecting with the air outside.
That’s why I often have the TV on so I can have some nature in the background, or else the fine rumps of the Kōshien baseball players out sweating in the sun; the sizzling food porn of Japanese cookery shows that really stir up your gastric juices even while irritating you at the same time with their banal predictability.
When d was about to leave yesterday I suggested he try a recycle shop that is sometimes open in Hodogaya, just a few stations away. There is a Spanish empanada place he could try and he could possibly pick me up a vintage fume or two if they had any to give me an imaginary olfactory thrill.
The dividers remind me of when it was chic for architects to design shower curtains using hospital rails. I do like how the netting lets in the light and forms a luminous space defined by rounded corners. The minimal hardware is also quite spare and elegant….
I will try to see it as such !
This was surely the most enjoyable hospital visit I’ve read. Sorry you’ve been in pain, were almost deprived of prunes at the threat of WWIII, had excessive ricey/watery times. My goodness! But I’m glad you are healing, won some battles, and snuck in perfume, which I will now surely do if I have the occasion. I hope D finds you fragrant treasures. All the best.
Thank you.
I do enjoy the good moments – I am lucky that way.
Perfume here is a bit naughty – but fuck it!
Not like I am spraying on Viktor & Rolf
Hang in there! Glad you won the prune fight. The food certainly looks decent. As for the neighbor… doesn’t misery love company? I’m reminded of the British sitcom “Only When I Laugh,” starring Peter Bowles, James Bolam, and a third guy whose name I don’t recall now. Then again, to some degree they were all hypochondriacs and not really restricted in their movements, so you had to suspend disbelief.
Hope things get better for you day by day. Let us know if D found some vintage fumes for you.
Funnily also – a friend mentioned Only When I Larf
– but I must have missed it when it came out
D has been on the case and I shall soon be sneaking Diorella into the shower stall !
It’s like a dream/nightmare … so surreal and it must seem like it’s never ending. But it will end and it will all have been worth it. In the meantime your torture makes good reading for us – well, the Japanese hospital experience does, not the pain!
I wouldn’t say we are twins, but I am a bit spooked about the Amazone and prunes! Last week I yearned for Amazone and its deep emerald coolness. As usual, I know I have some vintage stuff but still am not able to hunt for it, so bought a new bottle. Not the same, of course, but it did leave an impression of the old. And last night I cooked chicken with prunes, which I love and are so good for you! I can’t believe yours were confiscated but thank goodness they relented.
Shouldn’t worry about the cobalt. There are enough other things in life that could cause us harm!
I wonder if your sense of smell will be heightened after this period of abstinence?
Sending lots of get well wishes.
Thank you
Loving these synchronicities
I actually do have a strange ability sometimes to crave something and then conjure it
It took me a while to appreciate Amazone – its deep mossy SWEETNESS with the narcissus and blackcurrant – but I have come to love it.
I gave my bottle of the edt to my agent in London in the spring as she also loves it – but am glad to have a replacement. On certain days it is just the ticket for a calmly stylist mooch about the house.
How does one incorporate prunes into poulet?
Think Amazone has worked nicely in our heatwave.
Kept reading about the recipe Chicken Marbella which was apparently a huge hit in the 80s, so I had to try it. I combined various recipes (including Ottolenghi’s – he replaced prunes with dates, but I added dates to the prunes!). It sounded sweet, but the tartness of quite a lot of vinegar and juice from the capers jar countered the sweetness. It turned out quite delicious. Best thing was I could sling it all together the day before in one dish to marinate and bung it in the oven to cook the next. I seek any recipe that is easy to prepare.
I WANT. TO EAT IT. RIGHT NOW
Oh, I should have mentioned all the olives, which also tempered the sweetness. I chose green olives stuffed with anchovy, so it could have been a little salty, but I didn’t add any seasoning and all was fine.
For some reason our conversation about solid perfumes has disappeared : very irritating
My apologies !
Hurray for the perfumes and prunes!
Chuckling all over again at intercourse mat and oral pension 😉
What was the original Japanese?! I can’t even hazard a guess!
Hope you can ganbaru for the next couple of weeks xx
I will ! Thanks Emma.
Even from a hospital bed, with sore limbs and dietary restrictions, you have managed to transform my mood from despairing (a matter for private discussion) to laughing. I look forward to hearing from the refurbished, pain-free Neil, but please keep it coming in the meantime – you are providing an essential public service (my favourite: swollen baseball bat – perfect!). X
Oh good
It is worth blurting all this stuff out then if it has that effect !
Let’s talk
Get H to give you my whatsapp
I have been wanting to chat in any case tbh x
Lovely Neil. I loved reading this so much. Your grapefruit vaseline ruse is GENIUS. Sending you much love and healing Nataliexxxxxxx
I slipped it in !!
( smells great btw : if you like grapefruit I will give you one next time I am in London)
Lovely to see you pop up on here xxx
Ps please write something called
THE GRAPEFRUIT VASELINE RUSE
– such an intriguing title for something !
Chicken marbella ftw! A favourite I have made many times: both the original 80s version (via Hugh’s mum). And Yotam’s. (As others have said: make it with prunes, not dates. Something to look forward to when you get out.) How long are they keeping you in for?
https://ottolenghi.co.uk/pages/recipes/roasted-chicken-legs-dates-olives-capers
Merci for the gallows humour! Not quite gallows, but you know what I mean…
Wishing you fresh air and a window very soon xx
Thanks E – I know I would LOVE this chick to prune business – please make it for me sometime in Norwich.
At least eight days left – probably more. I actually don’t want to go unless I can walk on this new surfboard leg – it really is very disturbing – if technologically awe-inspiring.
Dark humour will never cease coming – it’s in my bone tissue.
As for the fresh air …. I am trying to just keep a lid on myself and know I will be bowled over by the world when I get out. Something to look forward to x
Absolutely. You’re doing really well by the sounds of it and all things considered. Not long to go xx
Thank you for keeping us updated on your hospital travails and victories. Especially prunes and perfumes. I cannot imagine what you must be feeling, but thank you for making me laugh. The food does look nutritious, but I shreiked when I saw a huge bowl of Okra. My kyptonite. I send you my best healing wishes and happy thoughts. I wish I could pop by and smuggle in some perfumes that would make you smile.
I would love that, and still very fondly remember all the amazing orange blossoms you sent me for the osteotomies eight years ago.
D hates okra- and understandably. That slimy texture ! I, weirdly, have come to LOVE it – in this particular meal more than ever for some reason – it was cold, with tuna flakes and ume/miso marinated which sounds vile probably but which I slurped down like a real bitch.
I wish I could replace rice content with vegetables – the more the merrier – but I realize that all the nutrition I am receiving is so much better than the jello and margarine on toast you get elsewhere.
I just hate the uncertainty of not knowing whether it has truly worked : I guess the whole thing is an act of faith
We are all rooting for the best outcome!!
Ps what perfumes would you pick right now ?
I love your taste in scent
Wow. In a hospital, after such an intense surgery I would pick something close to the skin so I didn’t get busted and perfume confiscated. Maybe Bruno
Acampora Musc, or Crabtree and Evelyn Sandalwood Cologne. Or maybe Caron Eau de Caron, or Heaven Sent parfum. Or a little dab of vitage Givenchy Gentleman. Or Guerlain Les Secrets de Sophie. This is a hard question!!
Do you mean that lovely Caron citrus in the polka dot yellow box?
ONE OF THE BEST PERFUMES EVER CREATED – one I would loved to have literal gallons made and shipped to me on a regular basis. Fresh and soothing at the same time !!
Sounds awful to say what a wonderful post, but it was. The claustrophobia of no daylight, the fabulous finds, the disobedience, the surreality of the intercourse mat; and then suddenly walking. So glad you have an outlet of some sort, and so grateful that we can read all about this. Hang in there for the healing, and if your posts are like this in confinement, well, the release should be quite something!
Unless I write best when silly and spontaneous and anything more consciously written comes out a pile of turd
Hardly! (But softly does it. More prunes.)
( but thank you !)