Has Anyone Seen My Tea Tray?

We got a phone call this afternoon confirming next Monday as my arrival date at the Royal.  Since I should be at this point buzzing for a nurse to fill up my water jug and pass me something from the tea tray and maybe dim the lights and turn up/down the heating and maybe plump up my pillows I can’t seem to get the same amount of enthusiasm up!  I can’t decide whether this is a good thing or not.  Kitten production is definitely down but so is everything else knitting, sewing wise.  Mood however stabliised yesterday and is more or less back to normal.  I can’t believe I didn’t feel okay by Saturday morning.  I was like a kid who didn’t get what they wanted and sulked.  I want my stem cell transplant and I want it now and if I can’t have it today I don’t want it until August – let’s see how you like that messing up your schedule – see if I care!

When the co-ordinator rang today and asked ‘Are you okay?’ as they do.  I said ‘No I’m not, I’ve told people including work that I’m going in today, I’ve done my list, I’ve bought new pyjamas and Primark knickers, I’m not very happy at all, I cleaned the bathroom, the bathroom, I’ve downloaded films, I was actually all excited and now I’m all flat! What are you going to do about it?’  Oh, okay then I really said ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

I should be grateful I have another week to sort things out and that I get yet another day out to Liverpool.  Since I didn’t get my lung test when I went on Friday as it could be done today I need to go for it and the ECG one day this week.  I had the ultra sound on my heart but apparently  not the ECG (yes, Lorna I will remember to shave my legs).  I also need to take back my 24 hour wee sample – that should be fun for the person next to me on the train!

I said to my mother in law that I would see if I could get her appointment for the next installment of the ear syringing saga moved to this week but then found out about going to Liverpool so between that and the weeing in a bottle B doesn’t think it’s a good idea.  However his mother who can’t remember my name half the time (she’s never has been able to consistently produce any of our names to our faces – I don’t mind her calling me Gillian but draw the line at Bernard or Stephen) remembered I’d said this when B spoke to her tonight, so he at least got the pleasure of telling her she’d still have to go next week.

Now I just need to remember who else I’d told I was going in today as one of the neighbours rang before to see how I was getting on and was surprised to get me!