I was nervous about our flight to holiday. It was only 2hours, but I did not know how my bowels would behave.
The drive to the airport, of 1 ½ hours, was smooth and easy, despite leaving at 4.30 am. The roads were clear, and the car performed perfectly. As ever my first act upon arrival was to visit the toilet. We disposed of our main luggage via the self-service check in. Staff were once trained to d this process. Now airlines simply expect passengers to do it themselves. It ought to be straightforward, but as we nearly found to our cost when first faced with it, if you get it wrong, only trained staff can re-print a label and affix it to the luggage. The stress and worry that we would mis our flight on that occasion had me sweating and feeling nauseous.
This time, with assistance, it was managed without delay, and with fast-track security booked, we passed through to the coffee shop and duty-free area quickly.
To be sure of no troubles, I took every opportunity to go to the toilet that presented itself before boarding. I had no mishaps, despite landing in 50 mph winds, and slanting rain. And this after an hour and a half’s delay as the computer system had gone down after all passengers had boarded and the crew needed to check all passengers again by hand, meaning we missed our taxi slot. There was sporadic applause and huge sighs of relief when we landed safely.
On the way to our town, I received a call from the hospital. ‘Could I come in for another MRI at 7.30 on Monday evening? ‘
‘Err, I would but I am in Portugal.’ I replied, ‘so a bit tricky.’
‘Oh,’ she responded.’ Holiday?’ ‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘I did say so to the practioneer who advised I needed to stay at home, but I told her this was pre-booked, and we needed to be here.’
‘Well, I hope you have a lovely time. When are you back?’
I explained and an appointment was made for 7.30 am the following Monday morning, which would be followed up with a CT scan the following day at 11.30. I was not aware of the CT scan appointment. I would need to let my MD know but did not have my usual e-mail on any device I had with me.
I had an e-mail system on my phone, so sent him a short message hoping it would be accepted by the spam e-mail scanner. It was and he responded much later.
Our week away was relaxing and without incident. The return journey smother and more straight forward. There were two letters waiting for me from the hospital, confirming both appointments
I woke early the following morning and took myself off for the MRI scan. There was a man who had arrived before me waiting in the MRI seating area, and the café was busily being prepared for the day; a few nurses bustling about, but no sign of a receptionist.
One arrived and the first man approached the counter to book himself in. The receptionist looked slightly agitated. ‘I cannot find your appointment’ she muttered. She looked across the letter he had handed her. ‘The appointment is for next week,’ she pointed out, apologetically.
He took the letter and looked at it. I wondered how someone could make such a mistake.
