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I bet you two know the words to We Go Together, don't you.
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H1ppychick
We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
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Didi Conn was the only one of the original 'teen'cast to return for the godawful Grease 2, fact fans. The latter featuring early turns from Maxwell Caulfield and Michelle Puh-Fie-Fur.
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H1ppychick
We all prisoners, chickee-baby. We all locked in.
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I'm such a Grease geek :shame:
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quote:Originally posted by Ringo: Now that's what I call Giving head
Where is everyone today? I was hoping Jonesy would come back to talk about Big Brother. He's pretty good at that.
There's a huge gulf between how I'd like to be remembered and how I am remembered, and Ringo nails it here.
Sorry I've not been contributing. Too much work getting in the way of 'lectric life and big problems on the children-to-be front I'm afraid.
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posted
Thanks guys. I know this isn't the place for spilling one's guts but, well, believe it or not I consider people here to be friends, so indulge me.
I've had a shocking couple of weeks. The twins were found to be suffering from twin to twin transfusion syndrome which basically means one is sucking the life out of the other through the placenta. We had an emergency consultation at UCL last week and were pretty much told there was only one chance as it was so far advanced: laser treatment. There's only man in the world who does it and he was doing the procedure that night on a woman from Vienna. He agreed to do add another patient to his list and we were whisked down to Kings for the longest day of my life - culminating in the laser surgery at around midnight. Essentially they laser the individual veins in the placenta that are connecting the twins. It was insane to watch (alongside about thirty be-suited professors who had come to watch this guy in action - he's basically revered like Jesus in his profession) and terrifying. As they fired away with the laser, a perfect hi-def image of a baby's foot passed the screen ("Don't laser his feet, the baby don't like it if you shoot his feet with a laser"). It's one thing to see them on ultrasound, something else when you get a crystal clear image of your child playing the hot shoe shuffle with a medical tie-fighter pilot. The operation was a success and we were then told they now had separate placenta. The big one had a good chance of surviving but the smaller one would probably be dead within 24 hours. There was a slim chance he could make it but not much hope. Come back in a week for a scan. There's nothing we can do in the mean time. We'll know next week. So we clung on in there and pretended the little one might make it, while secretly fortifying ourselves against the reality that within seven days we would face the agonizing see-saw emotions that would stem from an ultrasound image of one baby kicking around merrily in the swimming pool roominess of his oversized sack while the corpse of his baby brother floated lifelessly alongside him in a shrink-wrapped tomb. We would have to count our blessings, we silently reasoned, for what we did have. If, God willing, Biggie was born healthy, it would be painful beyond anything we'd experienced to see his still-born sibling born either just before or just after him, but at least we would have the joy of one baby.
We had the scan yesterday and, against all the odds, they're both alive and thriving. The little one has grown considerably over the last week and is nearly the same size as his brother. The doctors were surprised and we are, as you can imagine, pretty chuffed.
I'm sorry if this is a self-indulgent pile of shite that is of no interest to anyone here but I wanted to explain following my earlier post.
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jonesy. I'm so happy for you. That's fucking fabulous news. Good for you. Good for your woman. Good for your tough little babies. I'm genuinely happy and relieved. I've been thinking about you and hoping for the best.
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