Three conferences in a week and although I somehow submitted my slide decks on time I haven’t actually written prepared or organised.

First up was last Thursday, my calendar told me I was to be in Coventry by 10.00.

A hasty search through my emails to check who what and why and off I went.

The venue was in fact Coventry football stadium. Wow.

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So when it was my turn, I was full-on chaos. No prep just hasty scribbles while other presenters spoke. My brain had been hijacked by the last few weeks, I just winged it. Classic “door handle” teaching—Jan’s legendary method of making it up as you walk through the door. Followed by FOFO… which I’ll explain when I see you, because it is not printable !

~I started things off by getting the room full of clinicians to stand up and answer bladder questions. Yep. “Have you ever… peed a little on a trampoline?” “What about your front doorstep?” If they said yes, they sat down. Last one standing got a prize—the ‘strongest bladder in the room’. The prize was a pen and a chocolate I shamelessly nicked from a supplier’s stand. No regrets.

Then I launched into the whole “how do we get patients to remember to use that personal gel oestrogen stuff?” Answer: keep it next to the toothpaste. Pause for effect… and ….. laughter could’ve echoed across the pitch outside .

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Tomorrow is Solihull followed by Edgbaston on Thursday.

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Meanwhile, I’ve spent yet more hours at Luton and Dunstable Hospital—, it is actually quicker to drive to Coventry. During the long wait, I found myself pondering the mysterious “wafers,” which, as it turns out, are actually a kind of template. That was followed by more imaging, then a drive back to Bedford to return the mould.

I had to explain (again) that Bedford can access Luton’s imaging because they’re part of the same NHS Trust—but of course, I was promptly summoned to see the restorative surgeon in …..Bedford, who ordered yet another scan. Mrs Restorative herself admitted it was all a bit “lastminute.com.” I couldn’t agree more. Not exactly calming nerves.

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As for the money—believe it or not, the NHS was originally set to carry out the procedure. I am eligible because of the deterioration which has got worse. But after waiting over a year with no progress, I cautiously approached BUPA. To my surprise, they agreed to cover the hospital, surgeon, anaesthetist, and follow-up care.

After consulting everyone I could—clinicians, the waiting list team, and any others—the consensus was clear: go private. Realistically, I wouldn’t be scheduled on the NHS for at least another year. So I came off the NHS list, booked the surgery, and completed all the necessary pre-operative assessments.

Then, in a twist I couldn’t have predicted, I received a call on Wednesday from a hospital secretary. She informed me that I would need to pay an additional £15,000 on top of the BUPA coverage. When I asked why, she couldn’t give a clear explanation—only that the lead surgeon (one of three involved) isn’t with BUPA.

I’m hoping I misheard her and that she meant £1,500. I’ll keep you posted in the short time I have left before the scheduled date. This has not helped the nerves.

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