Full days

Grapes ripe for the picking

Grapes ripe for the picking

One of the worst things about illness is that your time is no longer your own.

Today we went to the hospital and queued with one set of people just for a blood pressure check, then with the same lot of people again to see the anaesthetist who had an office that backed onto the first room.

Each doorway we went through, we had to take the pedals off Clive’s wheelchair, remove the cushion, fold up the chair, and then reassemble.

Each time a form was filled out, which was often, Clive’s name was questioned – Are you sure this is his surname?

Yes, I jolly well am. When I married him I took it on myself!

We spent all morning on this fruitless exercise – 6 hours used up.

The result sometimes is that I end up picking fruit in the dark, which I don’t mind at all.

  1. No comments yet.
  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: