Back on the ‘merrygoround’, again. 🙄
I know I said there’d be no more, in the long running saga, in my dealings with the RPAH, however, there are those amongst you who are either masochists, and downright gluttons for punishment, or have nothing better to do and have asked to be kept up to date.
Then again, it may be for a somewhat more sinister motive! 👿
At 13.40 hours yesterday I entered Professor Kilian’s rooms in Carillion Avenue, in plenty of time for my 14.00 scheduled appointment. Naturally I was called in, smack bang on time, greeted with a smile and warm handshake and down to business.
Seems that there is no doubt, that he will have to fix the faulty valve, sooner rather than later. He’ll probably give me a grease, and oil change, whilst he’s at it. He questioned me as to the results of Professor Sandroussi (to give him his correct title, even though he prefers being called by his first name or Doc) examinations. I told him that I had an appointment at 15.15 hours with the good doctor and would get the results then.
He reiterated, that there was no way that Doc S., could have his way with me, until after he’d finished with me, that’s if I change my mind and agree to the operations.
Still with me, ❓
Before leaving a new appointment and “Echo”, thingy was scheduled for 6 months, these Medical Professionals at the Royal Prince Alfred are nothing if not optimists.
After my session with Professor K., I took a leisurely stroll down Missenden Road, to Gods rooms in Briggs Street, braving a howling wind that almost bowled me over. Which wouldn’t take much to knock over my 63 kg.
I was in plenty of time for my appointment, half hour early, the delightful Arch Angel Irene told me that the doc was running a wee bit late, which I’d already gathered, by the number waiting in the room.
Okay, don’t worry, no more stories about those in waiting rooms!
Feeling pretty bored, I’d neglected to bring a book, I sent a text message to the War Office advising her that I was likely to be home a bit later than expected as God was running behind. I also mentioned that I should have driven up as both the “Disability” parking spots outside were vacant. never happened before.
Twenty minutes later the W.O. walked in and told me that she’d decided to take advantage of the spaces. I’m pleased to announce that she brought Coco with her instead of leaving him home alone, he get’s somewhat distressed, when we go out, and leave him behind!
It was just on 16.00 when I was summoned into his presence, actually I’d dozed off, which is what happens if I haven’t got a book.
Obviously he’d forgotten who he was talking to when he opened up with “we found a lesion in the bowel”, I said ” you mean cancer?” and he said yes. Why do they do this? Call it what it is.
He told me that it was ‘confined’, and hadn’t spread, and that it would be easy to whip it out. Not exactly his words, but you get the idea. So I said “and you’re planning to whip it out!”, he said “No, a mate would, a good bloke who actually specializes in bowel cancer” I asked “is he any good?”, and he told me ” He’s smarter that I am”, I said “impossible”.
I triumphantly advised him that it really doesn’t matter, as they couldn’t start chopping away, until Prof. Killian had had his way!
Not to be outdone he started hammering away on his computer, and dictating letters, straight onto the machine which were instantly printed. He told me that he had a spare of the microphone type thing that he used in the dictation, and I could have it if I wanted, and all I needed then, was the program, and I’d never have to type again, just talk. Trouble is I either talk too loudly or mumble.
I thanked him, and declined the offer, as graciously as one does to god.
He then tells me, that he’s made the appointment for me to see his mate next week, and also for me to have something called a PET Scan; and that Irene would give me all the details.
Do you get the idea that