Dear anyone who spoke to me today. Especially this afternoon’s conference call….and This morning ‘s meeting with medical student. He’s writing his dissertation we needed to work out which part of my story he should focus on. Apologies. I’m a bit frazzled, headached and bladdered. Here is the reason why, it was bit of a late night!:

Way back in 2015 I had operation number 101ish I have lost count. Dipstick and G.O.D. did that. Whilst in hospital I happened to write to the Times ( as you do) to correct a crass comment about an advert featuring a little old lady playing bridge. I came out in support of all little old ladies playing bridge. Not least ones wearing yellow cardigans as featured in the advertisement. From that day forward, the group I belong to, to supposedly learn bridge, ‘kitchen bridge’ that is, became the ‘Yellow Cardies’. Indeed everytime we meet we wear our yellow cardie. I would like to say we have learnt much bridge. But in fact we have learnt to laugh a lot, talk alot and we have become the bestest of friends. We alternate between each other’s houses and once a week try to make it work.

To get back to the week. Monday I negotiated the ridiculous new train timetable to get to an xray followed by appointment with respiratory surgeon. That passed without too much incident. I even managed a seat on my way home and probably snored too.  It just all took forever. It used to be so easy. But our trains are no longer the groovy cool ones we used to have. Certainly travelling in the rush hour, the nightmare is even worse.

Wednesday was a busy meeting of teacher stuff so I set out wearing what I needed for later in the day. Yes, my yellow cardie. I also packed my swim kit for a quick lake swim with Daughter 1 ( D1).

Work finished I found a random, late running, slightly fast, train to London.

The plan was scan, urine test, blood test, then appointment, for up to date situation report with Jerome.

Well that was the plan….

I arrived too early but that was good. I got the msu done. That’s a skill I have developed. I need to carefully leave enough to ensure the statutory full bladder for scan.

Scan next…but they had IT ‘issues’. So rather a lot of people with overfull bladders sitting or jiggling hoping to be seen as quickly as possible. All getting rather agitated and hoping the frazzled young man sorting us out, would listen.

Lucky me, bladder rarely lets me know it is full.  So I had no need to jiggle, but of course it could spontaneously empty. That would have been a bit, just a bit, awkward. Not least because I would have to refill with another bottle or two of water.

As a distraction I offered to go and get a blood test done. Doing that, was a new nurse yakking on about how wonderful G.O.D. was and how she was now trained up for bladders on account of his mentoring. She was nice enough , buggered up the blood take ( you should see the bruise!) but I really needed to get back into my scan queue.  I was not really up for a social interaction concerning G.O.D.

Eventually scan was done. I remembered to tell the lady I only had one kidney. That had been a bit awkward when last time I forgot and the poor woman spent ages looking for it!Bladder emptied. Scanned again. I overheard everyone’s reports being dictated , whilst I dressed in the changing-room-with-no-sound-proof. Oops. Deleted from brain.

I was then told that as it was so late, I should book another appointment with Jerome and go home. What?

Tempting as that was…it seemed odd. Dipstick on the other hand…he would overrun and cancel. Jerome? Never. Thinking he must be having some emergency, I set off for the station. Eventually phones linked and a steaming Jerome was in fact ready and willing for appointment.

argh. Rammed my sunglasses on to hide threatening tears back I went. I had to negotiate a Rottweiler type on the reception…’ I wondered where you’d got to ‘ she barked. I just mumbled.

Jerome, phew was indeed there and great and set up a wind tunnel of fans to cool off set my hair in ever increasing circles. But no matter. We went over the medicalness and seeing his curling sandwiches in a corner of his office, I felt very sorry for keeping him so late.

Again I set off to the station. Only to arrive to find all trains were cancelled delayed or void as in no idea what’s happening . At some point a train arrived, like sardines jammed upright nowhere to sit and set off for home. Extra stations were called at. That gave respite from standing underarm to underarm in the sweltering train…

Back at last, no time to swim.

Having sent apologetic messages to D1 from my dying phone.

it was a short drive to yellow cardies and rather late but lovely snacks and lovely friends and much chatter and a few rounds of cards.

My phone reignited and several messages and phone calls sprang to life.. The best was from Jerome. It was a stream of steam and annoyance and arghhhhs and please come to appointment…I keep wondering if it was somehow my fault. I should have asked who they had rung. Why tell me to go home when Jerome was actually available all the time? Who the hell gave out that instruction. ? What could I have done except scream and shout that I insisted I had an appointment.Arghhhh.

Getting home at midnight I was a bit tired frazzled and banging headache. But thrilled to have still got my cardie on and even won at bridge.

I went to sleep planning what I would say to the Transport secretary but the mess the network is in my train would never get me to a meeting with him on time!