To the doctors’, early, to be prodded and poked. It was a new guy, new to me anyway, and rather more willing to go the extra mile to find out what the @@@@’s wrong with my leg. I actually had to take my clothes off! He’s going to take the time over the next fortnight to read over my paper notes and meantime I’ve been shifted temporarily onto a new ‘water tablet’ (he had the grace to blush slightly when I referred to it as a diuretic) to flush some of the retained fluid away. He reckons, on a crude examination, that I’m carrying about two stone of excess liquid about with me, and sympathised when I complained that it’s getting difficult to actually lift my leg.
So, a full-spectrum blood test on the 29th, and a further appointment with the doctor on the following Monday or Tuesday.
Would you believe they don’t have any way of making appointments more than a fortnight ahead?
Whatever, I think I like this bloke even more than the last and he’s quite fiercely determined to get rid of the excess liquid for me. If he can do that I’ll stick with him.
~~+~~
Then back home and, after a short break for coffee and a sit-down, off we went together to Sainsbury’s. I insisted on having lunch there, which puzzled Graham slightly. When I explained that I wasn’t in too much of a hurry to get home with the noise of the building works next door he agreed I was right.
~~+~~
On the way home, after a truly leisurely shop, my leg started really hurting. Time we got here I wasn’t bothered about the noise and was soon tucked up for a long afternoon nap. I can sleep through anything when I’m of a mind and building noises are enough to make me shut down faster than C3PO on a bad day. When I woke the works had finished for the day.
