My trip to UCLH a fortnight ago was not a miracle, an exception to the rule, something stranger than fiction. Today, two whole weeks on, I was in, bled, injected and out in 25 minutes, well in would have been 25 minutes if I had not faffed around with wanting to speak to my CNS, to curb a serious bout of paranoia.
I cannot handle this change. 25 minutes does not afford me time to win over the people sitting next to me with my wit, it does not give me time to eavesdrop on the Medically Trained People’s conversations and it certainly does not allow me sufficient time to appreciate the new Doctor’s broad shoulders. It’s not even enough time to drink a cup of tea.
Change is difficult. Change is tough. Change does have to be managed. That is why, 40 minutes later, I am still in the building, finishing my cup of tea, looking at people walking by and fabricating conversations with the people next to me. Plus, in the Support section, they are playing some banging Christmas tunes. Bonus.