Herself had a hospital appointment yesterday.
This meant a few things that didn’t make me very happy.
First of all, it entailed a trip up to Dublin which is something I try to avoid. Dublin has become foreign territory over the years and lately it has become even more foreign. They are in a panic at the moment as they reckon that it is a hotbed of NewFlu and are threatening to send it into “lockdown” if the residents don’t behave themselves. That can’t come soon enough in my book as it would be the perfect excuse to avoid the kip.
My happiness decreased also at the prospect of wearing a face-nappy. We were to visit a hospital complex where they are a tad paranoid and have enforcement police everywhere.
So we headed up. The journey wasn’t too bad and I even found parking which was unusual. But then I had to don the nappy. Immediately my glasses fogged up and remained opaque which meant I could only guess tat I was walking in the right direction. Also I was pushing a wheelchair which required a certain amount of effort which in turn meant an increased requirement for oxygen. But I couldn’t breathe.
The nappy I have is one we were given by one of our health visitors which means it is very fine mesh. I suppose that if it’s supposed to stop a virus it must be fairly restrictive but frankly I would rather catch a virus than suffocate. Surely logic would dictate that a mesh fine enough to trap a virus has, by definition an inability to allow air through easily? If you can breath through it then it is pretty fucking useless.
In the end I found a way of hooking the nappy so I could breathe properly. It wasn’t going to stop a virus but it was going to stop the enforcement police.
We were in there for over an hour. It seemed like a whole day. Herself was beginning to turn blue from the lack of oxygen and had already caused one panic when they thought she was suffocating. We couldn’t wait to get out the door where we promptly ripped off out nappies and sparked up our respective cigarettes and pipe.
It was nice to get a lung-full of fresh air again.
You have my sympathy, sir. To both of you. If I have to wear one of those blue "procedural" type masks, even for as little as a half hour, I swear I feel slightly sick for the rest of the day. It's happened more than once so I'm convinced it's a legitimate feeling. Laurie would just end up hyperventilating to the point of passing out but I step in before that happens. Picking her up and putting her in the shopping cart would probably put my back out and we'd both be laying in the aisle–very embarrassing all around.
So, besides the panic by the staff, what was the prognosis on Herself? As well as can be expected I hope?
It was a visit to the optometrist to check on progress of a cataract and whether she's ready for surgery [she is]. It's the place I have had to visit on a regular basis over the last months so I knew my way through the maze of interconnecting corridors and identical plazas. Unfortunately this was the first time I couldn't use the stairs [which aren't wheelchair friendly] so we got lost again finding the lifts.
I can't exaggerate how relieved we were to escape into the underground car park after, and take in deep lungfulls of fresh exhaust fumes and tobacco smoke. Bliss!