On the Health Front.

I’m booked in for my next visit to the hospital tomorrow, this time to have ultrasound scans on both legs to see whether they can sort out the constricted arteries problem. And because it’s an early appointment, and the hospital is twenty miles away, and it’s normal to queue for up to half an hour for the car park, and then there’s the length of a very big building to walk searching for the requisite department, I have to be up approximately four hours before I normally get up. I’m really not designed for that sort of thing.

You know, up until two years ago I visited the doctor on average about once every five years, and it was usually for something minor which required nothing more than a short course of antibiotics. I’ve always been fit and healthy and free to get on with my life without let or hindrance. In the last twenty one months I’ve made eleven visits to the doctor, seventeen visits to the hospital, and had four stays in hospital. And in the course of all this I’ve had nineteen procedures including two operations, one set of X-rays, one ultrasound examination, multiple cystoscopies and CT scans, as well as too many blood and urine tests to bother counting. I currently have three unconnected issues ongoing.

Why now? Why all at once? Where has my life gone? Will it end soon or carry on until I fall off the conveyor belt?

Sorry for the whinge, but the wall doesn't bother listening to me any more.