Café de hospital.

Appointment today to see an orthopaedic surgeon about some difficulty with my previously-damaged (6 years ago now) leg. It hurts sometimes along the tibia (which now contains a metal rod) and the ankle (screw through the end of the rod to hold it in place originally). In the past I've had two of the screws taken out as they were trying to get out through the skin, but the remaining two, at knee and ankle, seemed ok. According to Doctor Anciano (means "old man" but he definitely wasn't, just young and rather dishy in a Poldark kind of dark Spanish way), the screw at the ankle is too long, and protrudes too far in each direction. He said he'll remove it as a day case in a few months (not being an emergency) but needs to know exactly what he's dealing with - type of metal, size of screws etc - so that he will have "the right screwdriver". I am now tasked with trying to get information about a treatment in an NHS hospital far from my home town 6 years ago, when the health service computers in different areas only a mile apart do not speak to each other. I'm sure the overworked, underfunded, short-staffed health service will drop everything to look into my unimportant-in-the-scheme-of-things little query. Not.
I've always had a fondness for hospital cafes, having spent much time in many and varied ones over the years, and can state that this is a good one: large cup of excellent café con leche for only €1.15.

I did of course want to blip the x-ray but didn't quite have the nerve to ask, so coffee it was instead.