A spoiler-laden review of, “Let’s Kill Hitler” complete with pictures. C’mon…you know you want to!
As I am polishing up my review of the opening episode of Doctor Who’s Series 6, part two, I know people are asking why I didn’t review the finale to part one? I am planning to go back and tidy that loose end up, but since this past Saturday was the premiere of the next part of the season, I didn’t want to wait to review it. It was fantastic, as was the semi-finale episode, “A Good Man Goes to War”, but as with all good intentions, mine of keeping these in order, got sidetracked by real life and timey-wimey circumstances.
Gads, as I read that back, I can hardly keep it straight in my own head, so I know I have probably lost you already. Simple recap, I loved the end of part one (“A Good Man Goes to War”) and the beginning of part two, (“Let’s Kill Hitler”), but couldn’t review them in order.
Towards the middle of April, I started getting abdominal pains…not just any old pains, but vicious, nasty ones that were worse than cramps and could not be fixed by my chiropractor. After doctor’s visits that proved unrevealing, I ended up in the emergency room at Encino hospital one Saturday night where they did a CAT scan and declared that I had a hernia right in the area of the umbilical, hence the new phrase “umbilical hernia” entered unwelcome into my life. It has to be operated on, was another very unwelcome phrase (though I can think of worse..the “C” word, for instance). I am 48 and have never had any type of surgery in my entire life. That record was about to be blown to hell.
While slogging through the bureaucracy of one of our nation’s wonderful HMO systems, the pain got worse and my freedom to go where I wanted to (shoppingin L.A.’s fabric district) and needed to (work), became impossible. Finally, after the medical group losing paperwork and a month or two of delay, the date was set and a week ago last Thursday, I had my surgery.
It’s been hell; I’ll spare you most of the details, as every man and woman on the planet has already had at least one surgery by the time they reach my age. Time, which is often against us, has gratefully put many days between that day and today and I am mostly healed, though I am dreading Wednesday when I get my stitches out…another painful procedure they tell me…right along with how low my pain tolerance is and how they had to drug me more as I woke up during surgery and woke up in recovery in horrific pain I do not wish on my most hated enemy. Writing this may be a way of ignore this looming date of stitch removal, but it is also something I need to get out of my system in the telling.
So, enough of real life…screw it and it’s mother…let’s get on to better things steeped in whimsical fantasy and science fiction in a world held dear and precious in our household and in my heart…the world of Doctor Who…