I woke up one minute before my 6am alarm went off and was wired!

Not the productive kind of wired, the kind where your brain is already walking hospital corridors before your feet have even hit the floor. Today wasn’t about work, or errands, or normal Monday things.

Today was brain scans and an EEG.

We were up early, really early, because hospital mornings don’t care about sleep, comfort or emotional readiness. By 7:45am we were in the car, heading for the Epileptic Centre, both of us quiet in that very specific way that only happens when you’re trying not to think too far ahead.

Lucky we left when we did.

Five minutes from the turning we needed, there was an accident. Roads blocked. Plans are instantly useless. We were diverted through narrow, winding country lanes that felt like they went on forever, the kind of roads where you’re painfully aware that being late is not an option.

Somehow, against all odds, we arrived at 8:59am.

Which, in hospital time, is basically early.

MRI BRAIN SCAN

My daughter was taken through for her MRI brain scan, that strange mix of routine and fear, where you act calm because you have to, even though your stomach is tight and your mind refuses to sit still.

And then… the fire alarm went off.

Of course it did.

The receptionist told us that we had to evacuate, so the receptionist and I started walking through endless corridors, past offices where doctors were literally reviewing brain scans. Halfway through, someone casually mentioned the alarm was just a drill, and we could go back to the reception area.

So we did.

Back to the waiting room. As if none of it had happened.

Except it had.

EEG

Later, after the MRI was finally finished, my daughter and I were moved to another building to wait for the EEG. This time, when the fire alarm went off, it was real. A full fire practice. We actually had to leave, stand outside, and conduct a proper evacuation. At that point, I half expected someone to hand me a high-vis vest and a clipboard and ask for feedback.

Eventually, everything settled, and we made it home, mentally exhausted in that way only hospitals can manage. I popped out to the shops afterwards, partly because we needed food and partly because normal, boring tasks feel grounding after a morning like that.

For once, I didn’t buy anything extreme or punishing. Just sensible, realistic food. The kind that quietly says: calorie deficit, patience, and don’t be so hard on yourself.

I’d read something recently that stuck with me — lose 1lb a week and in a year that’s 52lb. Nearly four stone. And suddenly it didn’t feel like a race or a failure. Just time. Just consistency.

By the time I queued at the checkout, because I refused to use self-service, the conveyor belt broke, the scanner failed, and all my shopping had to be moved to another lane.

Of course it did.

MRI scans.

EEGs.

Fire drills.

Hospital corridors.

Broken supermarket equipment.

And it wasn’t even 4pm.

Some days arrive with full Calamity Jane energy, and all you can do is keep moving, keep breathing, and get through the next thing.

Welcome to Monday.