This is one of those weeks when I have not been able to get out to the course to get the material required for this newsletter. I have had uncorroborated reports that one member's remote controlled golf trundler decided to rebel against the yoke of oppression exerted upon it by it's owner, instead making a gallant break for freedom before deciding that a fatalistic plunge into the drink was a better option than carrying on with life as normal (in other words, pat Collins apparently lost control of his trundler and it ran headlong into the lake by the 14th tee- allegedly). In other news, at the start of the week I had someone stick a needle in my spine and inject some steroids to enhance my golfing performance. An extreme measure perhaps, but deemed necessary by my team of medical professionals following twelve months of physiotherapy, stretching and exercises which failed to elevate me to the expected level of golfing god. This is not the first time I have had steroid injections, the last time was for a dicky knee and this failed to have the required results, which meant I had the dubious pleasure of being operated on by quite possibly the most obese surgeon in the UK. This guy was so unbelievably fat that I had genuine concern about whether or not his arms would be able to reach the field of operation, and judging from the scar on my knee, I suspect that he might have hurt himself reaching over his own bulk. Hopefully this time the result will be different, as I don't fancy going under the knife again anytime soon. For my little procedure I had to head north to a brand new facility in Rolleston, which was disconcerting as I arrived to a new building (across from the equally new council building) and walked through the doors to one of those scenes that you normally only see in the movies - the one where the building is half finished and covered in plastic, boxes and pallets lying around, no doubt with some baddies crouched behind them, ready to jump out and instantly be shot down by the hero, before dying in an overly dramatic manner. The radiology office I subsequently entered also had that out-of-the-box brand new feel about it, and while I was glad that we weren't going to be using equipment from the dark ages, I couldn't help but wonder how well versed in the latest up to date kit the team of three medical staff were. The idea that I was in the "hands" of newbie's wasn't helped by the automated delivery system I was lying on like some sort of side of beef. This sci-fi looking piece of gleaming equipment happily slid me backwards and forwards like some sort of indecisive hokey-cokey player as the CT scanner checked to see if the needle was lined up properly. Eventually, the highly trained (hopefully) staff, utilising the latest in permanent marker pen technology (read: "Sharpie") identified the proper spot to impale me, and a needle was inserted in the anaesthetised area. My learned lady wife informs me that I couldn't possibly feel the needle grating on my actual spine, but I can only report that this is what my mind was telling me. Not unbearable painful, but not likely to appear on the treatment lists at your local spa anytime soon. Further in-and-out sliding by a machine that was clearly far too satisfied in it's work, confirmed that the needle was where it should be, and the radiologist then attached the medicine and injected the steroid/slow acting anti-inflammatory and that was it. Fifteen minutes and it was all over. Naturally, given our beloved addiction to the same sport, you will have spotted the parallels with our great gam? The obsession with the latest gear; the multiple influences on the exact line of attack required. The checking and re-checking that everything is: "just so"; and finally, that moment of commitment before taking the final plunge and going through with the whole point of the exercise in the first place, and hours of anticipation all over in the blink of an eye (insert your own lewd jokes/puns here). I can only hope that the injection was more accurate that my average golf shot Hopefully I will be out there to see you all soon, but in the meantime, stay safe, and play well Steve |