The scan

I've spent the morning trying to write down the reasons for my appeal. Something more than because I think it's ridiculous is required. This now is a brief respite so hopefully I can go back to what I've written with fresh eyes.

As I told you, yesterday was the day of the MRI scan. It was a long afternoon. The letter had told me to eat and drink nothing for three hours before the appointment which I had duly done. You can imagine my surprise when I was then handed a small carton of pineapple juice to be drunk at 1.50pm. No explanation was given. We could only assume it was necessary to have some acid going through the digestive system for the scan. There was then an hour wait while the drink was absorbed to the appropriate stage. If we'd known there was going to be such a long wait we would have taken some books to read or gone for a stroll & returned an hour later. Instead we flipped through the not very inspring magazines and waited.

Eventually I got in. The scan itself too the best part of half an hour. I was given music to listen to, during the scan. I chose classical & ended up with a bit of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" followed by Beethoven's "Pastoral". Or at least I think that was what they were supposed to be. The volume was so low it was difficult to hear, especially when the machine made a tremendous racket when it was presumably taking the pictures. It didn't help when I felt the urge to sneeze when I was far in the tube which was so narrow my nose was virtually in contact with the side. Still all got done.

By the time we got out of the hospital we decided to abandon any idea of the shops. On the way to the hospital we had noted the car parks we passed had looked overflowing with sale visitors. By this time, the race for home was on. The traffic queued for ages across the Greyhound Bridge, the sole bridge across the River Lune to get to Morecambe and therefore a real bottleneck. 

Once on the right side of the river, we stopped for a while at Snatchems for a drink. Hospitals are very drying at the best of times. We were both in need of refreshment by this time. We got home in time to put the pie the Fox had prepared the night before into the oven.

The pie itself was really delightful. It used some left over cooked turkey and stuffing, topped with mash like a cottage pie. We feared it might be too similar to the meal the day before, Turkey Wellingtons, using the same cooked turkey & stuffing mix, although in slightly different proportions. It tasted quite different despite the similarity of ingredients. Those minor variations made it taste quite different. Indeed it was quite a triumph. Well done the Fox!