The only reason we had to wake up at 6am was to get to a 10am hospital appointment, not for the appointment itself, but for the car parking, which is every parent’s worst nightmare when the entire world also seems to have a 10am slot. Nothing screams hospital chaos like hunting for a normal parking space big enough to get the wheelchair out. A disabled bay would’ve been pointless anyway, you only get three hours before you have to move it, and I wasn’t about to play NHS musical cars halfway through blood tests and X-rays.

Miraculously, I actually got a space very quickly (a medical miracle in itself), and we sat in the car for about 20 minutes before we needed to get going, partly to recover from the stress of finding the space, and partly because once you finally park, you just sit there like, “Right… now what?”

Outpatients

We headed to Outpatients, where I explained that I had a fracture clinic appointment at 10:30 am and my daughter had an Ambulatory Emergency Clinic appointment at 10:00 am, basically a logistical nightmare disguised as a Monday morning. Thankfully, they kindly booked me in without making me feel like I was asking for backstage passes to Oasis.

Then off we went to Ambulatory Emergency Care, and I was genuinely relieved she actually had an appointment because it was one of those “verbally arranged” situations where you’re praying someone actually typed it into a system. Meanwhile, can someone explain why people are hacking their lungs up but refusing to wear masks? And the ones who do wear one have it parked under their chin like a decorative accessory. Also — why are the taps in the toilets always running? Turn. The. Water. Off. My mask, obviously, was firmly in place.

My daughter had her bloods taken, and then we headed upstairs for my X-ray — via the lift, which of course stopped on every single floor, all the way up to level 10. By floor 7, I was reconsidering my entire life. By floor 10, I felt like I’d taken part in a slow, joyless theme-park ride.

Arthritis

Didn’t have to wait too long once I finally arrived. The radiographer let me look at the X-ray but said I couldn’t take a photo; apparently, we’re all secretly trying to auction our bones on eBay. She pointed out a tiny bit of bone that had come away from the main bone and said it was fractured. Lovely.

The consultant confirmed no fracture (yay) but arthritis in the main bone (less yay). I’m now booked in for an ultrasound-guided injection because apparently my joints want attention too.

After that, I did the standard hospital lap of M&S, checking three times what we could eat as if the food was going to magically change. Managed to get those gorgeous pitta chips again and my beloved date-and-coconut bar. Small joys.  I was so happy I didn't feel sick after eating them, I can say that my virus has done one! Horrah.

Bubble Chairs

We headed back to the Ambulatory Urgent Care department to wait for the blood results, and that’s when I spotted them, my beloved bubble chairs. Not just one, but an entire row, empty, like they’d been reserved for me by the universe. I immediately plonked myself onto a blue one outside of the blood test room and looked so blissfully relaxed that even the consultant gave in, especially as we had been there for over 7 hours. With one nod, my subtle “I’m not moving from this chair” signal, she agreed we didn’t need to go back to the main waiting room. Honestly, that chair was the highlight of my entire day.