The plan for today was to go to London for MRI scan and get a urine test to hospital lab. I had received letter from hospital about the MRI and 20 text message reminders to attend in addition to Eric’s entreaties to make sure I am there and not early but not late and not coughing. The cost to the NHS for my failure to get to the MRI would be , the messages told me, £500.

Failure to attend would as I know from past experience initiate a DNA procedure. ie spat out of the hospital system known as Eric and returned to GP. That would initiate 5 more letters telling me I was expelled and a Did Not Attend ( DNA) . That then would initiate letters and calls from the GP to tell me I was a DNA as if I did not know. That is of course a real bonus because I have not seen a GP since 2019. 

Mindful of all this I cancelled all engagements and revenue potential for today. I purchased my early morning London bound ticket in advance in order to minimise costs. 

That was the plan. 

Yesterday some poor lady at the hospital was assigned the job of calling me to tell me that despite the long standing appointment, despite the assigning of the two reps for the two implants and despite all these messages and letters. The appointment was cancelled. Because they had forgotten to tell the MRI physics man who has to turn down the magnetic force.  FFS. 

Not wishing to waste my ticket to London. I set off anyway half hoping the scan would be re-established. But also in order to do a pee in the hospital for lab checks. 

For complicated reasons my journey involved having to check the post at my daughter’s house North of here, purchase milk etc for her and family return from holiday.  Having done that I found my train. Got to London. Got to urine test hospital venue. Despite Eric having clear instructions that even I could see, the receptionist could not find me, my hospital number, which is actually called MRN but don’t tell the patient that. Then he told me to find a nurse. Well that proved impossible. But a kindly lady in volunteer pink worked out I needed a sample pot and a toilet. That she found. Toilet was so stinky, why are hospital toilets horrible? A frantic knocking on the loo door which I was hopeful was a nurse turned out to be some poor patient desperate to get to this , the only loo we could find. Anyhow, sample poured via catheter and all seemed ok . For some reason bladder, which is tetchy at the best of times, took the opportunity to spontaneously erupt. 

I cannot tell you how tricky it is to clean up and try to look reasonably presentable in the tiny space of a loo not least when unfathomably, the spare kit I usually take, was at home.

I emerged in some dishevelled form to try to find a nurse. Nope, not even the pink nice lady could find one. I sort of hung around awhile a little damp to say the least!  . Then in some desperation I made sure pot was labelled and I left it at the reception desk called ‘surgical’. No one was there. But there was a blue tray which I put the pot in. 

I trailed off to the high street. All the expensive looking shops looked , well. expensive. So I walked to the station. That dried me off. Sat carefully on the train and rushed into Sainsbury’s at home! Grabbed some pants and jeans. Went for a shower and swim, my kit bag is usually in my car. yes I did shower first! Then put on my nice clean kit. Alas the jeans I had acquired were not only too big, too short and covered in daisies, the criminal shoplifter badge thing was still attached. I nonchalantly got dressed ,acting cool. well ish…in the changing room was a lovely little girl dancing to the mirror, in the rudie nudie to a made up song. It went something like this. I got my shoes on all shiny and my flower dress and my socks toooooo …. I joined in…I got my daisy jeans on …oh yea…we laughed…her mum joined in too… tra la tra la…

there we have it then. NHS saves £500 I lose £350 ish pay, £25 jeans etc and train was only £17.80. But we laugh we sing we move on.