I am bored. Everything is boring. Satsuma is still playing ‘did-she didn’t-she, will-she won’t-she’, and it’s very boring of her. I haven’t lost any weight at all for a couple of weeks, which is boring too. My job is still being boring as all hell. The telly is boring. Books are boring. Knitting is boring. Ladies and gentlemen, I am losing the will to live, here.
Anyway. I got through to Miss Consultant’s secretary (an actual person! Huzzah!), who confirmed that I had indeed been put on the waiting list for a follow-up appointment with Miss Consultant (huzzah!), but that the clinic, now, no longer booked its patients in for appointments itself (what?), but rather, the waiting list was forwarded to the hospital’s main booking centre who would do the booking and letter-sending for them (the fuck?). She gave me the number of the booking centre, and now I feel exactly like I’ve completed level 1, killed the boss, and now am doing it all over again only with more bullety meteorites being flung at my head for longer. On the other hand, I am on the waiting list. I haven’t been flung into the NHS oubliette yet. *sarcasm* I am a mere tadlet more relaxed now *sarcasm*.
It’s been two months since I had surgery. I was looking at my scars in the shower yesterday morning. The so-called (lying liars from Lie-Land) soluble stitches never dissolved, so in the end I cut them loose with the sewing scissors and picked them out with tweezers. Don’t look at me like that. I had to. They were digging in so hard they were cutting my flesh. The one in my belly-button damn near overlays the one from the previous laparoscopy I had in 2007. The stitch-holes from that had pretty much vanished, leaving a fine white line from the main incision, so now my scars look like this: :ll:
No doubt the redness will also fade in another few months and the whole thing will be discreet and unobtrusive.
The other scar, the one just above my left hip-bone, was stitched with unnecessary vigour and the loop of thread holding the incision shut had pinched the flesh up into a little bulge even before my healing person began to object to and swell around the stitches. The ‘soluble’ (hahahaha) thread therefore simply sawed into me like cheese-wire and left me with this: IlI , instead of this: :l:. That particular stitch was a fiddly bastard to remove and all, I can tell you. Anyway, two months later, it now looks like this: ilI , which is a minor improvement, and still itches, which isn’t. I’m not pleased.
(None of the above will make sense to you if you get my blog-posts by email or reader. Sorry).
