These were the stages of my day:
  1. Get to Sutton
  2. Have cranial radiotherapy
  3. Get to Tooting
  4. Have intrathecal chemotherapy
  5. Return to Epsom
Success was variable.
1. No problem at all: a lovely neighbour took me in and got me there early.
2. Smooth as a baby’s bottom: Absolutely fine, and the radiographer was gorgeous.
3. Oh. To cut a very long story short, I waited 3 hours for transport to come from St George’s, and ended up getting a taxi instead.
4. Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy: very little pain and the supervised registrar took one step closer to being on the register at St George’s (and thus able to do it unsupervised).
5. Oh. No transport seemed to be turning up, so the wonderful Gobby checked what was happening, discovered that as it was pretty late by now (see point 3), another hospital was now looking after St George’s transport. And they had no record of me. Once again, a taxi to the rescue!

So there we have it…
Medically complicated, technologically advanced treatment: fine, easy.
Simple logistics of getting from A to B: quasi-impossible.


There was also a bit of a mix-up with drugs, basically because the Day Care staff were there before my intrathecal chemotherapy (and ordered the drugs), but had gone home by the time it finished (and so nobody still there knew where they’d got to), and I think we ended up having to reorder from the Pharmacy.

Repeat after me:

Patience is a Virtue;
Virtue is a Grace;
Grace is a little girl
who doesn’t wash her face.
Fortunately, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt since being ill, it’s patience. And I’ve always been a patient man anyway. Even before being a patient. Perhaps that’s why we’re called patients… Patients… Patience…

This might be what hospital transport looks like, though I can’t be sure. I know what taxis look like, though.

7 thoughts on “A little girl who doesn’t wash her face

  1. Sounds like you had a day & a half! I like Grace simply because she makes me smile!

    Thinking of you!

    Roz x

  2. I’m sure the Grace I know washes her face??? She smiles a lot too.
    The problem is that you haven’t paid your NI or tax lately, George – so now the NHS has to pay your taxes – or was it taxis? Hope Southern (Rail) does better on Friday, or shall I expect you for breakfast Saturday? Problem is that you would have to leave straight after that to get to the Scarsdale in time for Sunday…
    I’m lobbying Il Papa to canonize Gobby – I can quote many miracles. Who won the flag competition? Where was Brazil? What is the meaning of life? Have I finally cracked up…….?

  3. Well Superman with all that ZAPPING
    and POWING that you are undergoing I am surprised that you can’t just change into a little tight blue suit and fly to the appointments!!!
    Love Melanie
    By the way are you going to enlighten us regarding the contents of the bowl of food at the hospital? Must be so nice not to be enduring it for a while.

  4. It’s sometimes quite astounding how unreliable transport can be. And you’d think that things like ambulances would be among the more dependable.

    Hurrah for brain-rays and chemicals, though!

    On an unrelated note, my good friend from school is producing The Bald Prima Donna at Edinburgh this year. C’est pas par-là, c’est par-içi! Are you going to be able to go up there at all? Also, when would be a good time for me to visit / us to meet next week? Keep it splendid.


  5. I hope he is! My flat in the burger awaits you, although i wouldn’t suggest a taxi for the journey up; might be reliable, but perhaps a tad expensive?! Festival is kicking off up here and it’s ace! Was in the Speigel tent last night, surrounded by cabarete types in top’d love it georgey xx

  6. Hi george I have finally decided it is time for you and the world to be blessed with my witty prose. So…

    I was walking through the zoo when I had a thought of you
    A giraff said hi
    As I walked by
    But it was the chimps I wanting
    Which a small boy was taunting
    The poor primates could see
    The huge choc bar that he
    was now offering to me.
    Now it was at this point the chimps got real mad
    The choc bar they wanted was all on this lad
    Oo-oo’s and aa-aa’s came rattling out
    But the little lad couldn’t see what the cafuffle was about
    So being the fair fellow I am on occasion
    I split the choc bar to give to the caged ones
    Now it was at this point george that you came to my mind
    Coz you are a monkey* most of the time!

    *(of course chimps aren’t monkeys really but we’ll call that artistic licence!)

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