帽子: Old Lady Lamb

Yesterday I went to the hospital for a check up, and to get my stitches out. The stitches coming out was quite tickly really, and then I nearly fell off the bed I was lying on, as I forgot that it had been raised to about 3 foot high. It's quite a comedy of errors every time I go to the hospital, I tell you.

The results of my operation are as yet unclear. They showed me pictures of the inside of my hip (REALLY strange) and showed where I had the abnormal bone, and what it looks like now - ie gone. I have to start doing a lot of physiotherapy before it turns into scar tissue, or else I'll have to have another operation to take that out... Overall prognosis isn't 100% positive as they're not sure whether this will ease the pain. Also, they have discovered I have arthritis. My transition to old lady is nearly complete!! All I need now is a fleet of cats and a tartan blanket to cover my knees while I do a cat-themed jigsaw puzzle.

Anyway, I was in the plaster room chatting to one of the nurses, and my old consultant, Mr xxxx comes in. I saw him once, in March-ish time. Back then we had a conversation that went like this:

- So what do you do?
- I'm a student.
- What do you study?
- Chinese. Chinese anthropology. (sheepishly, as I always feel like a twat telling chinese people this)
- WOW!!!!!! I'm chinese!
- (had kind of guessed this from name/looks/accent)
- Do you go to SOAS?
- Yeah. Masters degree.
- Well guess what - you go to SOAS, and you probably have PSOAS tendonitis!!! What a coincidence!
- Ah yes.

Then he wrote a letter to my GP about how lovely I was.

Anyway, he tracked me down yesterday. And remembered everything about me - and asked what they had done to me, how I was, how my summer was, how exams had gone, what I was up to know, etc... really flirty... completely random. I pestered him for a bit with some questions about my hip and he was all like "if you have any questions, just ask me... when are you in next?"

But then I thought I should stop asking questions cos then he'd say "get on that bed" and would prod my leg like everyone seems to do and make me rotate my legs. I found out yesterday that while I was unconscious, the doctors were moving my legs about in the air. This would be slightly less embaressing were it not for the fact that the nurses had forgotten to give me paper underwear, and so that I was in fact naked. There were at least 6 people in the operating theatre, plus medical students, and they have now all seen my vagina. How nice.

I'm not really bothered about having arthritis. I'm more bothered about how I'm going to get my handwashing dry in time to go out later, given that it's zero degrees. I'm so vacuous. I'm also bothered about money - my parents have suggested moving back to theirs to try and save some money, as there's no way I can save a penny living in London and earning slightly less than a pittance. I am trying to decide whether it's a good idea. I can't live with my parents, we would all go crazy. But I can't afford to stay here, not without a dramatic rethink anyway.