The Demise of Roland Ratso: Chapter thirty four

Thursday 19th March. I am being harassed about a banner which I have ordered off ebay and don’t get much peace while I am pampering myself for the next instalment. The ring road is unbelievably busy with a number fo drivers who bring out the worst in me by driving at forty in the outside lane and then braking for no apparent reason. I have nothing to eat or drink since 8.00pm as per instructions. The medilink bus is pretty full and I get off at the wrong stop. Blast! The walk is only a few hundred yards but my back is aching. Arriving at the centre I make my way to gateway C and fill in the usual questionnaire. I am escorted into the centre and make an absolute fool of myself putting on two of their miniscule gowns. The assistant brings a bucket of orange squash – well it seems like a bucket and tells me that I have half an hour to drink it. I read the Cumbria magazine about the HAAF net fisherman form the Solway. A couple enter and join me – he is also suitably attired in a sexy gown. She brings his bucket of squash. ALL OF IT he exclaims! Get used to it. Another guy joins us with really expensive designer trainers on and nice hair and beard – “Don’t think much of these gowns” He moans. “What about me?” I ask. "I look worse and what makes it even worse is both of you have got better legs than me!” Some fell on stony ground, as they say and we continue looking at the walls supping our (delicious!) squash in silence. After half an hour or so I get called into the MRI consultation room. A doctor introduces herself along with a radiographer. Something is wrong! I never had this attention before. The doctor starts “ I must apologise, Mr, Wilkie, I have misread your notes and you cannot have your next scan until after the 10th April.” More apologies follow. “So you are not doing my scans then?” Nope. I get dressed and make my way to the café and get a black tea and a steak slice and watch reports of Fritzel being sentenced on the TV. I bite the slice and the contents come out burning my hand. Shit! Oh well, onwards and upwards – got the oncology clinic at 11.00am tomorrow. Nothing can possibly go wrong there. Can it?