On the Randomness of Things
The Health Care Professional said "I can't recommend any particular nursing home, of course," then coughed in a way that sounded just like the name of one of the nursing homes in the booklet she'd just given me.
I asked about it and she said that, as a matter of fact, she'd happened to find out that it had a vacancy.
So after we'd finished the financial assessment - or as much as I could, looking through the Communist's filing cabinet, all labelled neatly in his handwriting from what seems like a lifetime ago - I rang the nursing home and the woman who answered was really friendly and said I could visit whenever I liked and she'd show me round.
So I did, and it's only a mile and a half from home, and it was pleasant and warm and had a garden and the rooms were nice and didn't smell of pee and all the staff were really friendly and I thought yes, if he has to go into a nursing home, this is the one.
And then I came home and started nursing-home things in motion and then took Emily - who has a bad back - to the doctor's, and then went straight off to a two-hour meeting at Leeds University about roleplay for medical students in the New Year. And then I went to visit the Communist in hospital, and found him still saying "So how many weeks will I have to be in this nursing home?" and dealt with it as well as I could.
And then, on the way home in the rush-hour traffic, I thought hey, I've got to be in Bolton early in the morning to do a medical roleplay: I'd better get some petrol.
So I drove to the garage and pressed the little lever next to the handbrake that opens the cover to the petrol cap: and it didn't open.
I tried several times and cursed rather a lot, but to no result. So then I drove home and mustered all the technical expertise I could, which was actually quite a lot, and the way that I did it was to wail "Stephen - - heeeelp!" in a girlie Fotherington-Thomas voice.
Now, thanks to Mr Techie, the cover of the petrol cap is jammed unlocked, and to actually open it I can use a piece of special equipment known as a Small White Plastic Spoon.
So I went and filled up the petrol tank and once I've worked out the way to Bolton and moved stuff for the carpet cleaners who are coming tomorrow and had a look at my roleplay script, I can relax.
But if you'd asked me to guess what was going to go wrong with my car, I would never have guessed that. Life can be very random sometimes.
I asked about it and she said that, as a matter of fact, she'd happened to find out that it had a vacancy.
So after we'd finished the financial assessment - or as much as I could, looking through the Communist's filing cabinet, all labelled neatly in his handwriting from what seems like a lifetime ago - I rang the nursing home and the woman who answered was really friendly and said I could visit whenever I liked and she'd show me round.
So I did, and it's only a mile and a half from home, and it was pleasant and warm and had a garden and the rooms were nice and didn't smell of pee and all the staff were really friendly and I thought yes, if he has to go into a nursing home, this is the one.
And then I came home and started nursing-home things in motion and then took Emily - who has a bad back - to the doctor's, and then went straight off to a two-hour meeting at Leeds University about roleplay for medical students in the New Year. And then I went to visit the Communist in hospital, and found him still saying "So how many weeks will I have to be in this nursing home?" and dealt with it as well as I could.
And then, on the way home in the rush-hour traffic, I thought hey, I've got to be in Bolton early in the morning to do a medical roleplay: I'd better get some petrol.
So I drove to the garage and pressed the little lever next to the handbrake that opens the cover to the petrol cap: and it didn't open.
I tried several times and cursed rather a lot, but to no result. So then I drove home and mustered all the technical expertise I could, which was actually quite a lot, and the way that I did it was to wail "Stephen - - heeeelp!" in a girlie Fotherington-Thomas voice.
Now, thanks to Mr Techie, the cover of the petrol cap is jammed unlocked, and to actually open it I can use a piece of special equipment known as a Small White Plastic Spoon.
So I went and filled up the petrol tank and once I've worked out the way to Bolton and moved stuff for the carpet cleaners who are coming tomorrow and had a look at my roleplay script, I can relax.
But if you'd asked me to guess what was going to go wrong with my car, I would never have guessed that. Life can be very random sometimes.
posted by Daphne at 6:32 pm
1 Comments:
In my job I sometimes get to do the equivalent of "coughing in a way that sounds like..." It's great - I love it when I'm dealing with a person who can be trusted with my indescretion!
Post a Comment
<< Home