Bloods

So, I wake up with another hangover and wonder why I drank a bottle of wine the night before detailed bloods. I can hear the call now:

"Hello Mrs X, we've got your results and we're happy with your hormone levels, but do you realise your blood is 12% alcohol!"

So, I arrive at outpatients at the opening time of 9am. There's a ticket despenser on the wall like those at the meat counter at sainsbury's and the number 24 beams down at me in bright red neon. I take a ticket... 61.

I'm surrounded by (sorry) what looks like the just kicked out population of the local homeless shelter and bravely take my seat. Them's the rules, so I don't complain, unlike every other "well dressed" individual who turns up and thinks they have a birth right to queue jump!

It's fascinating to watch NHS efficiency too. The chatting nurses, the seeming lack of any organisation, the poor signage. It's not a supprise it's failing. You'd think that something as simple as blood tests, which are done every day, could be managed like a conveyor belt, but clearly not.

But, after an hour waiting and observing, I got my bloods done and should have the results in three days. I suppose I shouldn't complain, I'm lucky enough to have been seen so quickly and at no cost.

I just hope the results tell me what I'm desperate to hear!