It started off as a pretty good day. No rush, able to get up in plod mode after a good night’s sleep, walk the dog with no hassle, breakfast, that first heavenly slurp of tea.
You know, all good stuff and feeling happy with the world.
My appointment was at 12.20, and by 11.10 I was getting a little anxious, so got my coat, collected the rubbish bag, and told Hubby I was taking the dog for a quick walk and would he remember to bring my bag when he’d finished what he was doing.
From then on, the day turned sour.
The day before, Hubby had helped a fellow boater jump-start her car on his way to a doctor’s appointment. Now OURS refused to start, and it was approaching midday.
Hubby had a little tinker under the bonnet and found a clip/switch/knob which snapped into place and voila, life was reborn to our vehicle.
We hit every red light possible, got behind every idiot in the county, and whilst I was anxiously watching the car clock, Hubby was swearing in shades of blue.
At 12.18, he said it would be OK as we still had 12 minutes to go.
‘Er, no, love, my appointment is at 12.20 today’ says I.
He went loopy, dark blue swear words now, and even the dog was embarrassed.
He pulled into the oncology drop off area at 12.20 on the nose, I rushed in and logged on with my clocking in card. All neatly confirmed, I then dashed off to the loo, hoping they were running a few minutes late. Sadly, they were all on time, but I’d made it!
Hubby joined me in the waiting room having parked up OK, but after half an hour, we had to ask if I’d been forgotten, or if we were waiting in the correct place as I was under a different machine now.
Turns out we were in the wrong area, but that wasn’t a problem as the department is accessed from both waiting rooms, and as things turned out, they were now running forty minutes late. What a contrast to Monday when I was seen half an hour early!
Things however did not get better.
Staff came out and were calling the names of people who appeared to no longer be there, and people coming in after me were being seen before I was, but then there are five radiotherapy machines in the department.
Again I had to ask, and was eventually seen an hour and ten minutes after my appointment time.
The team I saw were different again to Friday and Monday. They don’t seem so chatty as those on the other side, but are no less professional so I know I’m in capable hands.
Lining me up was like being on a see-saw pin-ball machine. Duly annotated via the template, I was swirled and curled into position like a leaf on water, only to have the machine whirr overhead as it homed in so close to the relevant zone, I’m beginning to feel like spam in a sandwich (and turning colour to match) .
I was out by 1.40, after 60 seconds under the timer. All this for just a minute of time.
The lady Hubby had been talking to on Monday was waiting when I came out, and was immediately called in. It turns out she had been waiting over an hour in the wrong area too, and was now over ninety minutes behind her appointment time through no fault of hers.
Memo to self: must leave earlier!