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Dump your Junk day
Dump your Junk day
July 2nd 2007
Awoke quite apprehensive – more so than last time? Can’t really remember (pain is temporary – Lance Armstrong). I’ve waited for this day for so long – not that I’m retreating or trying to put it off - I’m just tired of/bored with hospitals. This will be my 4th operation in 18 months. I had a pre-op assessment last week to see if I was mentally and physically prepared for surgery. Halfway through an explanation from the nurse about what to expect when I’m admitted she stopped; “don’t know why I’m telling you all this – you’ve had more surgery than me”.Emails and phone calls from friends and family wishing me good luck. I wonder why we wish someone ‘good luck’ when they go into hospital? I’ve done it myself enough times. Shouldn’t need luck – we have the NHS’ finest.Busy weekend with last minutes jobs around the house and in the garden – won’t be lifting anything for a few weeks – hence the rush to do it now. Pay all the bills – do the filing in my study – like to keep things nice and tidy for Annie. Check Will is up to date (now see the significance of ‘good luck’).It’s the hanging around that’s hard – waiting for the phone call from the hospital to let me know they have a bed for me. I had planned a bike ride this morning – to clear the air/mind/lungs and any other bits that need refreshing. Annie feigns concern when I tell her – “be careful – don’t want you having an accident and ending up in hospital”. She has the grace to grin as she leaves for work. But just as I get ready to go the rain comes down. Sit in the garage with a coffee and stare at the bike instead. A quick flick with a duster and it’ll be there waiting for my return, sparkling like new.I call the hospital at the requested time to check on the bed situation. No news: no bed – no op. I live just 10’ from the hospital – perhaps if I stay here they could nip out and do the reverse during their lunch break?An email from work reminding me that July 2nd 2007 is ‘dump your junk’ day ……. I warm to the theme and take it quite literally (although my ‘dump your junk’ will actually be tomorrow). So – a raid on the fridge – out goes the bacon, cheese and chocolate cake – to make way for apples (mm), salads and forbidden fruit. The Homer Simpson diet is not entirely wasted – Annie’s sons won’t starve this week.I empty the bag in anticipation of changing it one last time. There’s a certain frisson about it - like kissing an ex- after you’ve broken up – is it for old time’s sake - or to prove the split was right? The bag has it’s own idea about this. One of the Velcro tabs catches on the side and diverts the contents East instead of due South. I reach for some tissues to clean up the mess. I’m going to miss this – NOT. Perhaps the bag is angry at being discarded. Maybe I’ve been selfish - I’ve always thought of this affair from just one point of view – mine. I’ve never considered the bag’s feelings. Perhaps it’s had enough and is ready to move on. We’ve both grown in this relationship – so it hasn’t been all bad, surely? I’m not much of one for sending flowers, but it’s had plenty of chocolates out of me. But that’s just my view. Perhaps I’m the one being dumped.1.00pm and still no call. The sun comes out – 10’ later it’s still out. I decide to risk it and jump on the bike. I’m wearing tinted vari-focals rather than my usual wrap around shades – so I can actually read the output on my bike computer. This is the best bike I’ve ever had – fast, light and comfortable. The carbon seat post soaks up the bumps in the road and the steel frame gives a responsive ride. I wind up the gears just see how fast I can go – 28.7mph before I run out of road, gears and puff. After a couple of miles the wind picks up and I glance over my shoulder. Not quite like the scene in Krakatoa East of Java (it was actually West – but why spoil a good title?) – but - an ominous slate-coloured mass is bearing down on me. I push on to the next roundabout before turning for home. The last couple of miles are into the wind and rain. Ordinary glasses are no good in this weather – I don’t need to know how many miles there are to go – I know where I am – I need the wrap arounds to keep the needles out of my eyes. The rain eases as I complete the last mile. I’m soaked but happy (and hungry – I had my last meal before the op - a ‘light breakfast’ 5 hours ago – that was the deal for passing on the Kleen-prep). A bike ride is better than Prozac any day. A cup of Redbush, a shower and I’m ready for the op now. So – that’s a bit more junk dumped.
JJ made this comment,
All my best wishes for a successful 40 mins
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comment added :: 2nd July 2007, 14:55 GMT
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