Sometimes plans go well. I woke reasonably refreshed and was able to get ready quickly. Leaving home at 7.30 I had a closer view than I wanted of the new roadworks on the Ring Road and arrived at Queen’s Medical Centre for 7.50.
I noted that the phlebotomy department at the Treatment Centre is still socially distanced, unlike the department at City Hospital. The paperwork I needed was at Rheumatology Reception, where I read and ticked the boxes on my forms (apart from the one about pregnancy – I’m just fat, honestly).
After that it was down to Phlebotomy, where I was number 105. 102 went in as I sat down and I was soon seen. The TB test is, it seems, the most expensive test they do as the blood is sent to Sheffield for testing. They take one tube of blood but have to divide it into four lots. It was interesting to have a test I haven’t had before. In case you are wondering, I have to prove I don’t have TB before I can go onto the new medication.
The perfection of the day was broken when the parking ticket machine broke down. I buzzed the office and they told me to go to the exit and they would let me out. This was what happened. I must check my statement when it arrives and see if a payment went through – I also want to check, after making several attempts, that I haven’t been charged multiple times.
Julia was up by the time I got home and we went out for breakfast at McDonalds.
It is not, so far, a day of great sophistication or significance, but I’m enjoying it and I’m happy to settle for that.
It’s a case of being happy with what you have and not making yourself unhappy about things you can’t have. I’d like to be eating seafood on a private yacht in the Caribbean. I’m eating junk food in a rattly VW in Nottingham. In a minute I’ll be drinking tea in front of TV with Julia and deciding what to do with the rest of the day. More poetry filing, I think, followed by lunch, TV, a little light writing and more TV. Possibly internet grocery shopping and pizza and salad for tea – we have a lot of home-grown tomatoes and they won’t eat themselves . . .
TB???? That was a worry for a while.
Part of my return to Victorian values. I’m going to experiment with rickets next . . .
It worries me that they are checking so thoroughly – what are these drugs going to do to me?
A miracle cure? That would be nice.
Ha! Nice, yet unlikely.
Like the others, I am glad the TB test is just routine. The header photo looks amazing. Is that cherry tomatoes, green olives, quinoa, and red peppers? Like you, I am looking for tomato recipes right about now.
Yes, it’s from the days when I made healthy lunches. I must start again!
I was indeed wondering about you being tested for TB. Glad to read it’s just a procedure for new meds. As for everyday life and simple pleasures. When I was being treated for cancer—12 years ago!—what I most wanted were the simple pleasures of everyday life. A return to normal. I realized then and there that what I had was enough. No bucket list was necessary. Enjoy those tomatoes, which are no doubt oh so good.
12 years already, Laurie! Yay you. Your reply made me tear up. Especially, “I realized then and there that what I had was enough.” So lovely.
You are right, I was wondering why you had to be tested for TB.
Homegrown tomatoes are a wonderful thing. 🙂
So different from the normal run of the mill tomato from the shop. I’ve had three blood tests, a scan and an X-Ray in the last few weeks – I’m getting value from my NHS tax money! 🙂
I thought of you yesterday…was stuck at Heathrow for a bit…
Ah, Britain at its best! Hot, sticky, crowded . . .
Hope it wasn’t too bad. 🙂
We missed our connection to NY and were stuck in the airport a bit
The perils of the jet-set lifestyle! 🙂
Sigh…