A Day Like None Other
We've been retired for a decade. We sleep in when we feel like it - and we feel like, often. It's a luxury we enjoy. And then we retire later at night, making a full and satisfying day of each and every day we're given to enjoy. So we're not particularly enamoured of the need to rise earlier, much earlier than is our wont of late. Actually, half-past six of a week day morning is a misery to face the day. All the more so when that day dawns overcast, chill and windy. All the more so when that is the day you're scheduled to undergo yet another bodily-invasive procedure to ensure that the deadly disease that once threatened your life has not returned.
Now that is sobering. It does focus the mind. There's the point where it becomes first a slight distraction as the days advance and the calender draws nearer to the appointed time, then a true unease settles in, and finally, dread accompanies you to the assignation. A measured dread to be sure. You know you feel well, you are certain there are no untoward indications that all is not well. You just have to display that fabled stiff upper lip. You are, after all, closely approaching 70 years of age. Rather mature. It's unseemly to be so nervous.
So when the nurse checks your blood pressure she questions whether you're feeling a little nervous. And that explains to her satisfaction why the reading is a little on the high side. There are other patients waiting. Patiently they wait. They have little other option. No one wants to be there, why would they? They're there because either there is a real and present threat to their health and well being or they're being checked to ensure there is none.
Misery doesn't necessarily enjoy company. Some people indulge in idle chatter, others sit quietly, close their eyes, will the time to pass - and wait.
It was odd driving through the early dawn light, slowly making our way through the press of early-morning rush-hour traffic. We haven't experienced that kind of thing for years. It's nothing we've missed. We knew that without today's experience. But that too is life. Good thing we left a little earlier than we thought necessary. As it was, despite the press of traffic we made it in good time.
At that time of the morning the parking lot was only one-third occupied. Surely some of those SUVs belong to hospital staff personnel; doctors, nurses, orderlies. More to come as the minutes wear on, and in fact within an hour of our arrival the parking lot would be completely full. Sorry: try for a parking spot near the road. Or wait a few minutes until some patient exits and drives a) off slowly, thoughtfully; b) slips into the driver's seat and zips out as fast as he can.
For us, it was a combination of both. We were in a hurry to leave, but we were in no great hurry. First came the hugs, the self-congratulations, the viewing of the world around us, despite the heavily overcast skies, through a rosy lens.
Odd, that: we so very much appreciated everything about the day. All the colours we saw were so vibrant! We felt so good. Life is good.
Now that is sobering. It does focus the mind. There's the point where it becomes first a slight distraction as the days advance and the calender draws nearer to the appointed time, then a true unease settles in, and finally, dread accompanies you to the assignation. A measured dread to be sure. You know you feel well, you are certain there are no untoward indications that all is not well. You just have to display that fabled stiff upper lip. You are, after all, closely approaching 70 years of age. Rather mature. It's unseemly to be so nervous.
So when the nurse checks your blood pressure she questions whether you're feeling a little nervous. And that explains to her satisfaction why the reading is a little on the high side. There are other patients waiting. Patiently they wait. They have little other option. No one wants to be there, why would they? They're there because either there is a real and present threat to their health and well being or they're being checked to ensure there is none.
Misery doesn't necessarily enjoy company. Some people indulge in idle chatter, others sit quietly, close their eyes, will the time to pass - and wait.
It was odd driving through the early dawn light, slowly making our way through the press of early-morning rush-hour traffic. We haven't experienced that kind of thing for years. It's nothing we've missed. We knew that without today's experience. But that too is life. Good thing we left a little earlier than we thought necessary. As it was, despite the press of traffic we made it in good time.
At that time of the morning the parking lot was only one-third occupied. Surely some of those SUVs belong to hospital staff personnel; doctors, nurses, orderlies. More to come as the minutes wear on, and in fact within an hour of our arrival the parking lot would be completely full. Sorry: try for a parking spot near the road. Or wait a few minutes until some patient exits and drives a) off slowly, thoughtfully; b) slips into the driver's seat and zips out as fast as he can.
For us, it was a combination of both. We were in a hurry to leave, but we were in no great hurry. First came the hugs, the self-congratulations, the viewing of the world around us, despite the heavily overcast skies, through a rosy lens.
Odd, that: we so very much appreciated everything about the day. All the colours we saw were so vibrant! We felt so good. Life is good.
posted by Pieface @ 5:56 PM
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