Stevie Lite

I am slightly less than I was before.

I spent the afternoon at the ERI watching soporific afternoon telly. Waiting to get slashed.

In the wrong department.

They didn't see the point in telling me, so at about ten to four - I got there at one thirty - I asked when I'd get seen.

"what's your name?"

"That's Mr Fish to you"

"Hold on, I'll check"

a couple of minutes later a young doctor comes out and checks my letter

"Oh, you should be downstairs"

"oh"

"I'll phone down and tell them"

"oh. thanks."

My appointment was at two. It is now almost four. I go downstairs to the correct department. The wee nurse is apologetic and sorts it out for me. Within fifteen minutes I'm in the room getting poked and prodded by a Nurse Practitioner before I lie down and she slices me open under a local anaesthetic.

I have to say that I felt safer under the knife of a nurse rather than a junior doctor. Good to see that the talent is being used - she was friendly, professional, and efficient.

I was all done and out by five. Slashed and stitched in under an hour.