Why does packing need to be so traumatic? I am a man, going into hospital for three and a bit days, what can be so difficult? I have long since observed that girls, when going away, feel the need to pack for every potential and conceivable situation. As a result, over 75% of the clothes not only do not get worn, they don’t even make it out of the three huge bags needed to get them in. You may have surmised from my opening outburst that the Unfeeling One has been helping, no, supervising, my packing in preparation for my big day tomorrow. I pack light. Very light. How many clean pairs of socks and shreddies do you need for 4 days? On the basis that I will be wearing said items when I arrive at the hospital tomorrow, I reckon that I only need one further clean pair of each. I am in a private room with a bathroom so I will be able to wash the dirty pair in the sink each night. I eventually agreed that an orange, Sainsbury’s shopping bag was not really appropriate but, if She wanted me to use anything else, She would have to go into the attic to get it. I have a bad knee after all. She emerged with my trundle bag (fits even RyanAir overhead lockers) and it was duly filled with four pairs of clean shreddies and socks (the pre-assessment nurse recommended boxer shorts, not pyjama bottoms), 2 ‘t’ shirts, slippers (with backs), and a dressing gown (short, so no danger of it getting tangled in crutches), and shower and shaving kit.. To this I added two mobile phones (work and home), iPad, Kindle and, whilst she wasn’t looking, my work laptop. Needless to say, I remembered charging leads. Job done. Why did it need to take 2 hours?
I wish I had read Her administrative instructions more closely as I now know why she emerged dusty and cobweb-ridden from the attic clutching my trundle bag: I am expected to walk to the railway station tomorrow morning. She has to go to work early, there’s no bus between the house and the station, and the distance doesn’t merit the cost of a taxi. I hope those nasty, uncommunicative commuters let me have a seat. Best I take a walking stick because, as you know from previous posts, I am far too young to be having a knee replacement and they might not notice I need to sit down.
Having got ready, it was then time to go and say the necessary farewells to all those people who will be missing me and worrying about me. The visit to Mum and Dad’s didn’t go as planned. Firstly, they had hidden all their walking aids from me (clearly they intend to go out enjoying themselves whilst I am away) and, secondly, Dad starting regaling me with tales of his knee replacements and his hip replacement, and the fact that he remained totally conscious throughout the latter. Thanks, Dad, not interested. Sorry I am such a disappointment in the manly stakes but it is one medal I am prepared to forego. Mum has confirmed that Flower Club is on a Tuesday so she may be able to spare an afternoon to drive the 500 metres from her house to see me whilst I am bed-ridden. The upshot of that visit is that I am still going to have to buy my own walking aids.
Mother of Unfeeling One has had her dog sitting duties explained to her. These consist, in the main, of throwing a string of plastic sausages and kicking small rubber balls vigorously. When Lyle has had enough of playing, he simply needs a couple of biscuits before he gets his head down for a serious sleep before being ready to get up and play again. Such simple pleasures. The Unfeeling One reckons I am his role model but I can’t see it myself.
The Unfeeling One has been keeping me from alcohol for the last week or so but I was allowed to have a glass of red wine to accompany my last supper (It’s good for you when dieting. And at all other times) so it wasn’t the sombre affair it could have been. It wasn’t strictly jolly either but I managed to keep up everyone’s spirits up at what must be a very difficult time for them. I am beginning to suspect that, deep down, the Unfeeling One may really be worried about me. Mind you, she did ask if my will is up to date and where it is. I am not allowed to eat anything from 0730 tomorrow and can only drink water from 1030 so I have decided that’s it on the food front. I hope that I don’t work up too much of an appetite during my hike to the station in the morning.
It’s almost time for bed so I shall sign off now. I will attempt to publish a quick blog tomorrow once everyone has finished telling me what they are going to do to me and persuaded me to sign my life away. Just need to finish this glass of red wine before I retire. Kneedyman.