Clinic fun

I'm writing this from the waiting room of the consultant clinic at Bristol Haematology and Oncology Centre and it's rammed.  There's at least an hours delay for the consultant and the same for bloods.  If I'm as unfortunate as last time I was here, the nurse will shout my name just as I've gone in to see the consultant and my name will go back to the bottom of the pile.  Then I'll have to hang around for an extra hour.

On the bright side, I have been lucky enough to secure a seat near both the doctor's office and the nurse station where all the bloods are taken.  This will mean, fingers crossed, that I won't miss either appointment.  My mother-in-law wasn't so lucky.  No seat available for a 74 year old woman even if she is bouncing (literally) with health. After standing around for a while jiggling like a school kid waiting for the bell to ring on the final day of term, I managed to persuade her to go off for a walk.

This is a routine visit, happens every three weeks to check over how I'm responding to whichever chemotherapy is being administered at that point.  Strangely, I've always been given an appointment at 3pm or 3.15pm, although getting in is never earlier than 4.30pm and often later. I'm not moaning, I can see for myself how many people have to be seen and how ill they are. I'd rather be seen late and know that those before me have had the time they needed with their doctor.  I'm sure it was the same when I came with my primary cancer. I don't know how long one has to attend or how badly sick one has to be to get an upgrade to 1.30pm - the coveted first appointment of the afternoon - but it's obviously much sicker than me.  At which thought, my mind reels.

The idea of being more ill, feeling worse, than I do already is horrible.  When it comes to physical malaise I am definitely not a Stoic.

Maybe I should be thankful for my middle of the afternoon appointments and only start worrying when the appointment letter tells me I'll see the consultant at 2pm...