My appointment classed as 'extremely urgent' back in April, the one I was advised to cancel my holiday for, finally materialised last Thursday - June 13th. After getting up at 5am and booking into hospital at 7am, I was told I was second on the theatre list. I sat around suitably garbed in theatre gown and compression stockings until 2pm at which point the surgeon, Mr Bryan, informed me he'd run out of space.
"I've arranged for you to be admitted to Ward 22 overnight and you'll be first on my list in the morning" he said.
Fast forward 18 hours and I'm sat there again with gown and stockings, starving because I hadn't been allowed anything to eat or drink, when a surgeon arrived by my bed, and it wasn't Mr Bryan.
"I believe I'm first on Mr Bryan's list today" I said to him.
"I'm afraid Mr Bryan isn't in today, I'll be doing your operation" he said.
(Like hell you will, I thought)
"I'm sorry, but I'd prefer Mr Bryan to do it" I told him.
So, I was given transport home and told I'd have transport back some time the following week.
I was in rather a bad mood when I got home!
After mulling things over I phoned the hospital and told them to forget it. I'd been messed about too many times and had quite enough. As I put the phone down I felt a great weight had been lifted from me. I'd had a bad feeling about this operation from the word go and felt in my heart I'd done the right thing.
|Meanwhile, Mr Nutkins cheered me up (Click to enlarge pictures)|
|...goldfinches were back as soon as he'd gone|
|...and this little fellow seemed happy on my astrantias|
|I felt to be flying next day|
|especially on downhill bits|
|Things kept interrupting our Sunday run - like this orchid|
|but eventually we got under way.|
|...chugging up hills|
|...stopping for an occasional breather|
|...happy to be out on the trails again.|
And that was the week that was, a great deal of frustration and not much mileage.
Things can only get better.