Monday. A whole day stretched before me, with three appointments and an evening duty at work. Manageable? Why ever not!
- Cello-Boy’s tooth extraction turned complicated – 50 minutes and a lot of skill by the dentist.
- That meant I had five minutes to get to another part of town for my own doctor’s appointment. We arrived late. It didn’t matter – the doctor was later. Then I was referred to go and get blood samples taken. That was another hour down the tube!
Ah, well. We came home, Cello-Boy took Calpol and chilled in front of a video, and eventually I went and got a nice big tin of tomato soup to have for lunch.
- Time to go out for his doctor’s appointment. That surgery is very high-tech. You log yourself in, and get advised electronically if the doctor is running late. He was estimated to be 18 minutes behind schedule. It was somewhat more than that.
Which is how I found myself returning home through the Clyde Tunnel at 4.30 pm, knowing I had to be at work at 5 pm. I dropped Cello-Boy off home with the rest of the family, and drove off to the underground.
- I was under ten minutes late to work – not bad.
Home again by 9 pm, when I had tea then spoke to my mother on the phone. (They’re talking of sending Dad home from hospital. He can’t feed himself, wash himself, go to the bathroom … and mother is 76, organising a house-move all by herself. Send him home?)
Oh, I forgot. I also put a load of washing through, and did a bit of ironing and a couple of sewing repairs while I was in the house in between appointments.
“Did you phone the TV arial man? Why not?”, Super-Spouse asked this afternoon. Super-Spouse is under a lot of stress just now, so we’ll forgive him this indiscretion!!! Pseudo-Supermum feels quite stressed, too. Must be catching.
Images thanks to blog.kir.com and LexisNexis.co.uk