Joe Bloggs

You decide

Went to get the plaster cut away from my foot this morning. Having reported in the past how fast treatment was at the hospital I've been going to, I ended up spitting venomous words at the receptionist 40 minutes after my appointment time with still no sign of being called by the doctor! The cutting of the plaster was scary to say the least. A raw spinning rotor blade. The doc just ignored my "whoa" noises and cut through to reveal a still very swollen ankle. I'm now reduced to wearing a stiff brace and I still need crutches when outside. All of which was a prelude to the real event of the morning when I was waiting to pay. Looking through the papers I'd been handed I saw that my age was printed on my next appointment slip. My eyes made a double-take and I thought, 'That's not correct. I'm not that old. They must have made a mistake'. I then saw the date of birth and, much to my dismay, everything was correct. So. I either feel much younger than I am. Or. I'm going senile.