A Day at the Hospital
I spent Thursday morning at Addenbrooke’s.
They did an ultrasound and found that I had one and that it gave good pictures. Why don’t they tell you there and then? I suspect that if it had been missing or badly faulty, they’d have called the Crash Team or whatever and locked me in a darkened room.
I then found out that they wanted to fit a ECG monitor on me to record the heart for some hours. So I got part of my chest shaved and the electrodes were glued on. I thought for a moment that horror of horrors, I wouldn’t be able to tuck my shirt in, but the nurse knew how to get the wires to my shirt pocket.
At least I had a lady to drive me about. She’s one of my old work colleagues, who’s married to another ex-pat Scot and work colleague, sheltering from the cold-up north in East Anglia. We went to Waitrose and then had a decent lunch. Pleased to see to, that the Star now sells Aspalls. A reason for going!
It’s only now that I realise how difficult it is living here without a car. The taxi from Cambridge on Wednesday night cost £40. It’s not the money, but I just think it’s extortionate.
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