I've been pondering various pressing questions lately. Namely - why my softly-spoken patient 'Ella' has such bizarre lab results, why someone dear to me is having to deal with a spouse's dodgy behaviour, and why the damn dog keeps puking up her dinner. I was awake at 4 am this morning pondering all three dilemmas.
I got up around dawn, and stumbled out into the cold (note to readers from Canada, the US, the UK and anywhere else 'properly cold' - Australians think it is bitterly cold once the temperature drops below around 20 degrees celsius. Well, at least the ones who live in the tropics do! And it was only 10 degrees this morning, so I was practically risking frostbite). I picked up the newspaper and searched for evidence of upchucked dogfood. As I wandered barefoot in the shivery, wet grass, peering into all corners of our yard for vomitus, it seemed to me that the day had started ominously. However, as the minutes passed, I forgot my icy feet. I stopped wondering if the neighbours would be offended by my mascara-smudged eyes and bedhead. There was no spew! Oh joyous day!
Safely at work a couple of hours later, I spoke to the specialist to whom I had referred Ella last year. The specialist sounded edgy and evasive. "Yes, this is all getting out of my league now", she muttered. "I'd like you to send her to Dr X." I dutifully phone Dr X. The next available appointment is July. I may, if I wish, ring Dr X tomorrow, though, to plead my patient's case. I feel confident I can wangle a deal. I've become an expert at begging in as dignified a way as possible.
Later in the day I phoned the person whose partner is causing them grief. Things sounded happier.
My daughter came home from school wan and febrile. I set her up on the couch with DVD and drink and nurofen. Within an hour, she had recovered enough to eat pikelets with raspberry jam and wander the backyard with her brother.
Now, the dog-with-intact-stomach-contents (touch wood) is lying nearby, curled up on her dog pillow. My kids are asleep. Fatty is out playing squash - keeping fit and getting in touch with his masculine side and male-bonding and all that. And here sit I, telling you of my day.
In case you're at all confused, my day has been thus - ( in order) - puppy puke, patient problem, pissy partner, pale progeny, pikelets. I bet you're simply gagging for Chapter 355.