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This feels very weird.  I’m in the cardiology department at MK hospital on a sunday morning.  The waiting room is empty - apart from me - and I leaf through back issues of SAGA magazine (it’s either that or Heat) while I wait my turn.  Well - not really - I’m the only patient so there is no ‘turn to wait’.

My heart arrhythmias have been getting worse lately and I have an appointment with a cardiologist in a few a days time, but I need an echocardiogram first, hence my sitting here on a sunday morning.

It seems odd, because now that we have Dan and Kelly living with us, the concept of a weekend has returned with a vengeance.  When it was just the two of us, days merged into one another - sometimes we’d work and at other times we’d play - depending on our mood, the weather and whether we were hungry or not.  Now, with extra mouths to feed and clean for, Anniemay and I do the chores during the week while the kids are at work; the weekend has once again become precious. 

Today for example, while I sit and wait, Anniemay, Dan and Kelly are heading up the M6 to see Ma-in-law - it’s her birthday.  Sunday is the only day the rest of the family could get together.  I know I shouldn’t complain - but a wee part of me resents being here, when the others are having fun.  But this is the reality of a 24/7 NHS.  In the same way as illness is no respecter of time or place (or birthdays), treatment should not be either.  That’s just the way it is.

On the plus side, I’m out in half an hour and at home I have a sofa to myself, the papers to myself and Radio 4. If you ask me what I'm listening to, I have to say I’m sorry I haven’t a clue.

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