Dawn was nowhere near ready to crack, sparrows held back their farts. In the pre-dawn gloom rain lashed against the windows. Half an eye looked at the clock; it was five minutes to alarm. I’d been lying awake since five, having finally nodded off at three!
You get to a certain age (when stuff starts to crumble, and your skin turns to dust like Count Dracula at the end of a Hammer Horror) and life’s even keel is constantly punctuated by medical appointments. Aging is not a smooth transition from grey-templed maturity to bright white-bearded Father Christmas. It can linger you into a false sense of security, or tumble about you like a mortarless wall. Your diary no longer has important meetings and parties, now the highlights are shopping deliveries and meetings with medicos.
Today was Maggie’s MRI day. We drew into the carpark with our eyeballs still in pyjamas.
Mags mumbled and fumbled for her mask, musing that metal was not allowed in an MRI and masks have a metal strip in them. Taking a deep breath she power-walked across the road to avoid the rain that was still trying to further dampen our mood.
I paid the parking charge on my phone and flicked off the open apps. I was about to open the Kindle app when Maggie re-appeared, steam coming from her ears and a killer look on her face.
“It’s only been ******* cancelled” she shared. This despite yesterday’s text reminder… “I said ‘why didn’t I get the cancellation’?” “Sorry”, they said “But it’s all outsourced.” Maggie eyed the local facilities wondering who should get the benefit of their services!
Just another day in paradise.
