I remembered what I couldn’t remember yesterday. I had a text in the morning telling me that they surgery had cancelled my blood test at short notice. This was annoying fo number of reasons, including that I am already a week late after working Wednesday last week. My appointment had been for 8.20 (which wouldn’t have been my first choice to be honest) and they had no more appointments that day. So, feeling pessimistic, I rang the surgery to reschedule. I was number four in the queue, then three then two, then one . . .
Whoever was in front of me took ages. They must have been asking something very complicated. I stayed at Number One in the queue . . .
. . . and waited . . .
. . . and tried to keep cheerful whilst waiting, and as the tinny music played . . .
. . . and got through.
I was cheerful and polite and came away with an appointment for 11.40 this morning. It seemed they did have another appointment today after all, and at a much more convenient time.
As a result, I was able to stay in bed until 9.00 (clutching the new tartan duvet around my ears) and have bacon sandwich before pottering off, yielding blood at the second attempt and returning home.
I hve thoroughly enjoyed my day so far. It’s little cold, and the screen was still iced up at 11.20 but apart from that all is good.
I’ve also found my methotrexate tablets. I’ve missed a week and that really makes a difference in winter, but I found some when looking through my bag. At first I thought they were the ones I knew I had lost, but they aren’t, because the box is different. These are not the ones I know I have lost, these must be the ones that puzzled me a few months ago when I ran out unexpectedly. I must have taken them away with me when we went to Norfolk.
I am going to have to introduce a memory support system where I use one big box for tablets, keep a diary and, as Derrick suggested, photograph stuff to remind me.
This, in answer to a question I asked earlier in the week, is when I admit I am getting old.