I've spent the day doing very little. I woke up late, had a lovely bath, a lazy breakfast, and a nice cuddle; in fact, all the things I’ve not been able to do over the last few weeks. I went to the gym, and discovered that I'm now five kilos lighter than I was at the start of the year, which I’m obviously chuffed to bits about. I certainly feel a great deal fitter; really alive, in fact...
It's somewhat ironic, therefore, that I had to go home via the doctors, to talk about the fact that my voice is still cutting in and out. The tablets obviously didn't work. I was seen by a some kind of locum, who genuinely didn't seem to care about my problem. She begrudgingly told me she'd refer me to an ENT specialist, and that if I hadn't heard from anyone in 3 weeks, I should give her another call.
"Three weeks?" I looked puzzled. She nodded, "and it will obviously be a great deal more time before you’re actually seen by anyone." I thought for a moment, and then spoke; "but what if there's something badly wrong?" "You mean like cancer?" she said, sarcastically; "you don't look like you've got cancer!” “Well, I’m sure if everyone with cancer looked like they had the disease, far fewer people would actually die from it” I said, as politely as I could. She thought for a moment about my statement. “Well, I'm certainly not prepared to put you on a fast track. Your voice doesn't sound too bad to me. Has anyone else noticed this change?" There was a stunned silence as I played with a paper weight on her table. "I sing," I said, "and I can't generate any sound in my falsetto, which means something is wrong." She shrugged. “Well, let’s see what the specialist has to say...” I nearly called her a silly turd, but instead said thank you, and left with my tail between my legs feeling like I’d somehow wasted her precious time...
I don't know... It’s typical NHS, I suppose. I could have sat with a bus conductor for 5 minutes and found out more about my general health!
On my way back from the doctors, I managed to drop my iPhone off the edge of the stairwell which leads up to our front door. Just as my keys had done the other week, it did a 30 foot freefall onto concrete. Bizarrely, it seems to have survived... Although no doubt, I'll wake up tomorrow to a blank screen, and be forced to eat my words!
Fiona gets married in Santa Fe tomorrow. It feels very bizarre and slightly upsetting not to be there. I shall be drinking her and Paul’s health at 10pm our time, and would encourage anyone reading this blog who also knows her to raise a toast as well.
The 24th February 1661, and Pepys went to church... Twice. The first time, he heard a sermon made by Mr Mills about the evils of getting drunk, which Pepys felt as excellent as any he'd heard in his life. Praise indeed. He was obviously in a good mood, no doubt brought on by his Valentine, Martha Batten, wearing the gloves he'd given her to church.