Two little things I left out of my ramble last week. The first was in relation to the colonoscopy; not only does the camera go up there but also a needle for injecting stuff and a little pair of clippers for taking a biopsy, plus I guess some sort of lamp to illuminate the whole procedure. In order for all of this kit to fit, they pump you full of air, I’m just guessing here not being an expert, to widen the passage as it were, in order to make the progress of all this clutter a little smoother. What goes in, has to come out and Anne pointed out it was absolutely in order for me to break wind or belch. At the first huge belch, I did say pardon; no, no not necessary, just let it out it can come either way, and then the other end went off. “That’s good, that’s really good, it helps me, excellent.” I’m so sorry; no don’t. I never thought I would achieve the age I have, to hear a woman praising my farting and belching prowess, with such vigor. “Well, it’s not like that in our house,” I wanted to say, but I could see she was otherwise engaged.
The second occurrence was at the end of the MRI scan, when the eastern block lady nurse said, “Results should be in week or so.” “Oh, that’s not a problem,” I mused, “I’ve got a CT scan in Aldershot on Friday.” Her voice rose a level, “CT scan? Why you have CT scan?” “I just have,” I replied a little pathetically. Again she got louder, “But you have just had MRI scan, why you need CT scan?” I suddenly came over very Monty Python and wanted to say I haven’t come in here for the five minute argument, how do I know? So instead I said, “I suppose you ought to ask the doctor? I’m just following the last order given.” And I hurriedly left the premises, feeling guilty for having caused the nurse such anxiety.
So the following week plodded on; waiting, waiting and finally on the Thursday I called and left a message. A very nice lady did call back, explaining they so wished they had a magic wand to gather all the information together but hopefully next Monday I would get a call to come in for a chat. Monday came and went and by seven thirty that evening, musing at what point we should replace the threadbare hallway carpet, I called and left another message. Tuesday morning dragged interminably and after lunch I called a different number and got a real person! No sorry I couldn’t talk to Mr. Nicolay, he had got an amazing job somewhere else and left. “Oh dear, I’ve frightened him off then?” “Pardon?” She asked my name and said she had heard me being discussed that very morning. “All good, I hope?” “Pardon?” And then she transferred me to a colleague. I concluded that not many people with a sense of humour call them. The new lady explained that Mr. Nicolay’s patients were being distributed amongst those specialists remaining. Yes, could I come in on Friday at eleven. Absolutely. Right I’ll put that in the book. (Thinks, if I hadn’t called would I have been in the book?) If you can come up to the endoscopy department, do you know where that is, on the first floor. Resisting heavily to say, of course I do that’s where you shoved a camera up my arse for about forty minutes; I simply said indeed I do, that’s fine, thank you.
So tomorrow is Friday. I have an interview with Michele Monro, Matt Monro’s daughter, to do first thing tomorrow for Radio Frimley Park, which will keep my mind occupied. Then Mary and I will wander up to the first floor and hopefully hear what is coming our way.
Thanks for reading folks, somehow writing this down is helping me make sense of all of this,
M & M xxx