Skip to main content

Not Actually Urgent

 Well now, yesterday I discovered that when one receives a hospital letter with the word ‘Urgent’ stamped on it, the ‘Urgent’ refers to the speed at which the letter needs to be posted out to the patient and not to the medical situation itself. And that the waiting list time for my now apparently not that urgent biopsy is 10-12 weeks from the date on the urgently sent letter. According to the cancer care nurse I swapped emails with, they aiming for an appointment somewhere in the first half of October. Apparently.

However, I AM still ‘High Priority’, whatever THAT means in a not-as-urgent-situation as I was first led to believe. I suppose I should be grateful I’m not ‘Low Priority’ because I’d probably still be sitting here this time next year grumbling about the whole hoo-ha. And the cynic in me thinks this is all about the government pretending to reduce waiting lists so they can look good: ‘Oh, she’s not actually on a waiting list. She has been urgently put on a not really urgent conveyor belt of treatment process thing. Which is definitely NOT a waiting list.’ 


Anyway, in the spirit of trying to cheer myself up, I went to the massive antiques centre and purchased a large and very heavy stone moon-gazing hare for the garden. I saw this hare a couple of weeks ago when Heather and I had a day out, and it has been on my mind ever since as something that needed to come home and live with me. Off I trotted this morning, then, with Nell riding shotgun. Cash changed hands, Nell got a freebie sausage from the dealer, and two chunky chaps wheeled the hare to my car on a sack barrow and hefted it into the boot of my car which is where it remains until Lord Malarkey comes home from work and can help me lift it out. 

I did attempt to lift it out myself, drawing on my marvellous sofa moving skills as motivation. However, the last time I shifted an extremely heavy lump of rock by myself (a gravestone - don’t ask) I slipped on the gravel of the driveway and inflicted a dose of Achilles tendonitis upon myself which, six months later, is almost but not quite fully healed. As I haven’t enjoyed the pain of the Achilles tendonitis, and as I am enjoying more pain-free days now it has almost healed, I shall not risk another Denise’s Removal Company injury. But the wheelbarrow is parked by the boot end of the car, ready to receive the hare. She will be in situ by the end of the day. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Frosted Dawn Enigma

The decorators are in at the moment. Stairs and landing. Given my previous history of 'Hoo Ha Occurring on Stairs ' - reference the Trapped Under the Sofa Incident and the Foot Wedged Between Bookcase and Stair Rise Debacle - I thought it wise to pay for professionals to decorate the stairs and landing rather than get myself in a mix with ladder and plank combinations and achieve the Magic Three of staircase accidents. The decorators are a father and son combo who go by the  names of Craig and David. This automatically causes me entertainment. 'Came in on a Monday, prepped, filled and undercoated, back on Thursday, first top coating, by Friday finishing touches...' Okay, not as frisky or well-scanned as the original song, but you get where I'm coming from. Anyway, before they started the job Craig asked what colour I wanted for the walls. 'Same colour as the downstairs walls, please,' said I. 'Dulux Frosted Dawn.' And then white for all the woodw
2 comments
Read more

Day 1 - Decisions Are Made Beyond the Author's Control.

‘Well,’ I say, looking at the expectant faces gathered around the huge table in the Great Dining Hall of Much Malarkey Manor, ‘I didn’t think it was going to happen this year, but it is!’ There is a sharp intake of breath as everyone wonders of what I speak. I’ve been muttering about all sorts recently, and I’m not talking liquorice here either.   ‘The Much Malarkey Manor Annual and Traditional Christmas Story!’ I say, and wait for the expulsed air of relief to settle before I continue. ‘I thought we had done it all. I thought we had covered every Christmas story there was. I’ve been wracking my brains for a full two months now, trying to come up with something we haven’t done before and then it hit me! We haven’t done a version of one of the Great Christmas Films of Yore!’ ‘Your what?’ says Mrs Slocombe, who is more interested in the selection of pastries I have brought to this breakfast meeting, because that is what one does, isn’t it? Eat pastries at breakfast mee
8 comments
Read more

Sun Puddles

A few weeks ago, I met up with a dear friend for a meditation and healing afternoon, both of us being light workers on the spirit pathway. It did me good to re-engage in a bit of focused energy channelling (because I have let my practice slip somewhat) and during the afternoon the words ‘sun puddles’ popped into my head.  Now, I know this wasn’t my human brain thinking these words because I have never heard the phrase before; when I arrived home, I looked it up and said to myself, ‘Aaah, you mean sun spots!’ This is a sun puddle... ...there! That thing that Flora is lying on. No, not the sofa - the warm patch of sunshine on the sofa. Here are Flora and Bambino sharing a sun puddle... This proves that no matter how much they scrap with each other and try to denude each other of fur all over my rugs, they secretly share a mutual and fond admiration. I think. And here is Bambino on a sun puddle that has come to rest on my legs... It’s his casual, ‘I’m so cool’ pose. Metaphorically cool, o
3 comments
Read more