Doctor ordered Mr Highriser for cholesterol blood tests. Yeah yeah. That was last October, but the time is nearing when I have to visit Doctor for some new 'scripts. Fortunately Doctor has written me off as a loss and does not lecture me about my wanton indulgent lifestyle, instead he gives me pills. Even so, I better play the game and have the tests before I visit Doctor again.
Ok, the mega pathology provider Dorevitch has a Balaclava office open Saturday morning. It opens at eight o'clock and my plan was to get there about 8.45. I should have listened to myself. R geed me up to get there at 8.00. Five people were at the door waiting. 8.45 there would have been two people in front of me.
Did I mention that I had to fast? I care little about food but for the past thirty years bar one day when I had the last test, the first thing I do every morning is make myself a cup of instant coffee. I was missing my coffee big time.
First lass was an older Anglo woman and very nice and caring, but could not do the job. She called on her superior, a younger Indian born lass to do the job.
Anglo woman was very concerned for my welfare. Indian lass not at all. No matter, Indian lass did the job.
No vein to be found in my left arm, no vein to be found in right arm. Try left again, no vein to be found. Indian lass tried right arm again, no.
Finally found a prominent vein on my hand and I so I ended up an old person with a a cross bandage on my hand. A friend told me later that old people show off their hand cross bandages in the hope that someone will ask them what is wrong with them and what test have they been for. I asked was their name (insert name of my mother).
In spite of the staff insisting I was not ok, I insisted I was. I left in a condition of mild shock. I was glad I did not get the tram there and R was waiting in the car outside.
I have a slight bruise on my hand. Don't worry, I will live to post another day. We then went shopping and used trolleys and R had to carry a lot of stuff as I was not to do heavy lifting.
I know some of you are getting on a bit and understand. I am embracing old age. I like slowing down. It makes life so much easier. I am not particularly troubled by my body and face aging but I hate my hands getting old. At breakfast a couple of weeks ago when I instigated hand stacks on the mill (what is it called? Handy handy?) with Little Jo, how I hated my old hands on her beautifully smooth skin.
Looking down at my hands now, all nails are perfect, bar one that could have a tiny snip at one side. Just don't look at the skin. I not like.