Doctory Stuff

We took my mother to see the phlebotomist this morning. Fine word, "phlebotomist", fairly rolls off the tongue. The doctor wanted a blood test to make sure my mother's meds aren't interfering with her kidneys.

While we were there a lady came up to us and talked about Tony Hancock because anyone over a certain age associates phlebotomy with the "The Blood Donor". My mother made like she recognised her and I thought she was faking it- as she usually does, but afterwards she turned to me and said, "Do you know E.... M.....? There's really no predicting what she'll remember and what she won't.

The surgery has fire doors. They're an absolute beast to get a wheelchair through. This morning a tiny, little, old woman helped me with them.