A routine morning of simple procedures followed by an entire afternoon with Jenny. It would have been easier under a general, but Jenny is old and frail, and the risks outweighed the advantages. Instead I have fitted nine titanium implants under local anaesthetic and a mild sedative. ...
‘Fuckig itches like a b. . . bastid.’ ‘Well, let me shave the scraggy thing off, for pity’s sake,’ says Phil. ‘P. . . p. . . you’ll prolly kill me,’ El says, then laughs. ‘Second th. . . thoughts. M. . . maybe should.’ El’s twitches and tics have escalated to the point whe...