Today I went to the hospital for yet another biopsy. It didn’t take place. I had rung a nurse a couple of weeks ago and I think she felt I was being a bit of a wimp! When I had my last biopsy I had to have a full anaesthetic, after the specialist was unable to send the camera up my anal passage because of severe inflammation (if you are wriggling around I don’t blame you), this follows an operation removing the bowel nearly 10 years ago. I had been a couple of years ago and the specialist had to send me home to return for fully anaesthetised ‘inspection’.
Anyway, I phoned before Christmas to ensure that I would have the anaesthetic and the nurse said she didn’t know what I was worried about, I told her what had happened and she said that I should come in and try. As soon as the specialist saw me today he asked why I wasn’t having a full anaesthetic, told the staff it was impossible to do anything and began the rebooking process.
The thing I miss about being under anaesthetic is you don’t see the camera working its way around on the screen, I find it fascinating. There are an odd few moments when they snip the sample which you see and then a second or so later you feel the sharp nip! So I have seen up me; down me; round the corners of me; and well where you don’t want cameras to venture! I quite expected to see Raquel Welch swimming around in skin tight white swim suit (The Fantastic Voyage).
So I’ve got to go back.
The bus journey takes in at least two buses and around an hour and a quarter.
On the second leg today there was a man around 70 wearing a smart dark suit and tie and an ex-serviceman’s badge on his lapel. He had that look and odour when it seems alcohol has become an integral part of the skin and he is only two drinks away from oblivion. He stood up and started filming people up and down the bus, most turned away, but I asked him why he was doing it, so, while filming me, he sat and told me he carries this camera everywhere and just shoots bits of his life as he wanders the city. He has hundreds of tapes he told me, as he’d been doing this for about 5 years. I asked him where he had served, in Malaya he told me. He was ready for a long chat like all of us who are a bit lonely want, but my stop arrived. As I was getting off I heard the driver telling him to sit and he didn’t want any trouble from him.
Good luck to him and I hope someone takes notice of what he is filming. I didn’t ask him why but maybe there was no need, perhaps it was just the need to prove that he was alive. He waved to me as the bus pulled away, I hope I meet him again.
Today’s photographs are of the Hospital at about 3.30pm, raining and dull outside, quiet inside.