life is fragile

That's a rather pretentious title in the circumstances. But just now Barney went off to a meeting leaving me finishing my dinner and as he drove off (yeay verily at the moment when I heard the pickup pull out of the drive and trundle away) I choked on a sip of wine.
after I'd spluttered and coughed and done all that stuff you do, and of course the dog had satisfied himself that this wasn't a new and interesting way of dropping food under the table I thought well, he might (Barney not the dog) have come home to a stiff blue wife and then where would we all be.
As I get older I find myself realising more and more how close we are to 'accidental death'. Accidents, by their nature being things you didn't intend, hadn't planned and can't really guard against, unless you're prepared to become obsessive which anyway wouldn't work since none of us is clever enough to imagiine every possibility in advance.
Well I thoroughly enjoyed the rest of my cold beef and 'orkshires (sorry, yorkshire pudddings)and now, lucky me, have the rest of the evening to do useful and interesting things.
Which reminds me. Talking of pretentiousness.
Some few years ago I took some persistant little sore white patches on my tongue to a surgeon to have a biopsy. We all agreed, (me, my doctor and the surgeon's head nurse) thqt it probably wasn't cancer but we ought to make sure. After examining the blobs, said surgeon also agreed. The biopsy was duly undertaken, not by Mr surgeon but by 2 nurses who had a lot of trouble holding my tongue still enough to cut off very small pieces, while said tongue flopped helplessly and slipperily about and co-operated not at all..I could be kind and say that it was under the influence of anaesthetic and so not responsible for its actions...I'm saying nothing about my responsibility for its actions, (have you ever tried to keep your tongue still while one person tries to pull it out of your mouth and another tries to cut bits off it? It's a case for serious attacks of the giggles I can assure you).
Anyway, a few weeks later I returned to hear the great man's verdict and he greeted me as I sat down by saying "Aah Mrs Bardsley. I give you life"
I thought, !!!??? Do we get down on our knees next or what?
I didn't start giggling till I'd left the consultng room though...you never know, I might need him some day.
It turns out he just meant (as we'd all thought all along) that I didn't have cancer. Just "a benign polyp". Yeah right, benign enough to make eating a purgatory and waking up with a dry mouth a small persistant hell.
some of the words borrowed by the medical profession to describe things that go wrong (or not wrong) with us are serious misuse of the english language!
I'm sure you'll be pleased to know the damn things have gradually faded to an occasional nuisance. Because as far as I could tell there wasn't going to be any treatment for them! Since they were benign. In fact my dentist fortuitously cured one of them by taking a tooth out. nice man. I almost liked him for a while.
Definitely need a picture here. Away you surgeons and dentists and teeth and tongues and things. Bring on the fabulous skies, the rosy pigeon coloured clouds and glorious horizons for tomorrow we may oops, have an accident.