There is more than one kind of eejit.
There is the Bit of an Eejit.
That’s someone you’d pity more than mock. “Ah God help him, he’s a bit of an eejit,” you’d say with a sympathetic tone in your voice.
Then there’s your Common or Garden Eejit. “Don’t mind that eejit,” you’d say dismissively. You ignore them.
There’s a Right Eejit. You might apply to some politician. “He’s a right eejit, yer man.”
Then there’s That Eejit as in “Oh, that eejit?” He’d be someone well known for being a bit on the thick side.
There’s the Stupid Eejit. A bit of tautology there you might say, stupid and eejit. But it can be muttered under the breath about, say, a boss or, if you’re brave, a barman. “Stupid eejit.”
And of course there’s the Complete Feckin’ Eejit though I have heard stronger f-words used.
Anyway, that’s me. I’m the CFE.
You will know, because I’ve told you, that due to my chronic COPD and a list of other ailments, I am a regular visitor to the A&E Department in St James’s Hospital.
In fairness, it’s not my fault that infections strike and I am always admitted for treatment.
Well, always apart from last night.
My 20th visit in eight years.
And it wasn’t an infection.
It was because I’m the Complete Feckin’ Eejit as mentioned above.
I’m working hard to avoid infections and so haven’t been out for a drink since September. (I didn’t say I didn’t drink. I just haven’t been OUT for one.)
So what did I do yesterday?
I drove to a shop. I got out of the car. I banged my shin against the corner of the car door, said a bad word and walked on. I can be very brave.
That was 4 o’clock.
Six and a half hours later I’m watching Pete Best on the Late Late when I feel a bit of damp on my trouser leg. Thought I’d spilled tea or something, Yes, tea. I’m doing Dry January.
So I felt the trousers. Then I looked at my hand.
The liquid was red.
I pulled up my trouser leg to reveal a three inch gash, still pumping blood, sock, shoe and trousers caked in it.
Now, I’m on a blood thinner called Xarelto (keep up. I mentioned it before.) It’s grand because unlike Warfarin there are no side effects. But the downside is, there’s no antidote. So when you start bleeding, you bleed and bleed and bleed.
I rang the VHI nurse for advice hoping she’d tell me to stick a plaster on it and go to bed.
She didn’t. she said: “Go to A&E!!! Now!!!!”
So I did and, in fairness, because of my history (and the blood) they saw me quickly.
I bled for a few more hours and then, this morning, they patched me up (that’s the bandaged leg above) and now I’ve a bandaged leg which I have to keep up higher than my hip for a week or more which I do lying down as such a contortion is no longer possible in the upright position.
I know why it happened.
I’m Complete Feckin’ Eejit.
It’s a medical condition.
And I’ve got it.