A Big thick letter comes from Harrogate Hospital. 'Here we go' I thought, 'Dear Miss Wonky (Not my real name), You have been booked in to Nuclear Medicine for two Isotope Heart Scans. One at the butt-crack of dawn on Thursday and the other slightly later (by 1 hour) on Monday (I really don't do mornings) Here is your list of instructions... This letter will self-destruct in ten seconds'. It didn't say that really, I like to add a bit of drama! I mean 'Isotope' It all sounds a bit James Bond doesn't it?
There was page after page of things to do and not to do before, during and after the scans, but the bit that kept popping up was 'You will be given bread and butter to eat and a glass of milk to drink before your scan'... OH NOOOO!!! Never in my life have I been able to eat dairy products, it is not an allergy it is just taste. Milk, butter, cheese, cream (gips) I can't do it! I'm okay about eating cows, I just can't cope with the white stuff that leaks from them! Not a bit worried about the fact they are going to pump my veins full of radioactive gloop, probably swept up off the floor from Chernobyl (they'll give the good stuff to the private patients, us NHS types will get the cheaper dodgy stuff), or stressed about the pain in my limbs caused by the journey or the sitting and waiting, the length of the appointments, the fact I will have to avoid sleeping the night before or I won't be able to mobilise in the morning within enough time to get there...I wasn't even thinking about the results of these tests for christs sake! None of that was in my head, just bread, butter and milk (gips again).
So off I pop. Hoping that there was maybe a way round the situation, maybe I could just have the bread and a glass of water, I could always ask. Walking down the corridor to the department I swear I could smell it... MILK! Little beads of sweat formed on my top lip as I saw a trolley in the waiting area, ready prepared plates of bread with the thickest layer of what looked like margarine, and plastic bottles of full fat milk!! My desire to run like Usain Bolt was overwhelming, but the body said 'NO'. My feet were stuck to the spot, dumbstruck, someone was calling 'Miss Wonky, Miss Wonky (Really, not my real name)' I woke from my utter gobsmackedness, I was being called in already, I had to be here, I couldn't leave, but there could still be a way round this trolley from hell yet.
I go into a small room with a friendly looking male nurse carrying a lead box (that must be the Chernobyl gloop) he asked me a few questions like, had I had anything to eat or drink? Had I taken my medication? Had any caffeine? I passed all that and out came a syringe with another lead casing round it with paint peeling off it, it looked so dirty, but was reassured it was safe... SAFE? I was wondering if I would glow in the dark later, or when I went home all my plants would die as I walked past them! The needle went in, no fainting (this has happened in the past), not much pain, all is well... Then comes the big bit "Now Miss Wonky (Still not my real name but I like it that much now I'm thinking of changing it by deed poll), you have to eat the bread and butter and milk and then sit for an hour before the scan starts" I ask if there is any way I could skip the milk and butter as I don't eat dairy, only to be told "No, it is needed to make the scan effective, it has to be done or we won't be able to continue with the test. There is some jam and marmalade if this will make it easier to eat." I am nearly crying at this point, I feel like I'm 5 years old again and in the school dinner hall, I just had a big bowl of that frog spawn pudding put down in front of me and there is an evil looking dinner lady, hovering, scowling, with her arms folded, watching me suffer through every nightmarish spoonful (shudders). I ask if it is margarine, the nurse says "no, it's butter... NHS butter". I think, what the effin heck is NHS butter? What makes it different from normal butter? Do they churn the milk from the nipples of NHS managers? (my head does work in strange ways, I worry about myself sometimes) Then I find out when I take my first bite...
URGHHHHHH!!!! OH! DEAR! GOD! Where can I puke? Where can I puke? The loo was way back down the long corridor. Oh, look, there's a bin! NO, I can't throw up there in front of these poor unsuspecting poorly people... There is only one thing for it, I remove my phone from my handbag, instant vomit bowl, sorted! Oh wait, I don't need it, first mouthful has gone down, I'm gipping, but I made it. I head back to the trolley for some jam, and lots of it. Now I have the sound of my diabetes nurse tutting in my head but sod her right? She's not here! I am about to die, needs must! I spread, no, I spoon several jam sachets on the bread and wedges of NHS butter and keep on going, sooner this is over the better, I'm feeling braver now I have the jam. I'm washing it down with the full fat milk, to my surprise this wasn't the worst bit, the NHS butter took away all the taste of the milk. Still, I had tears rolling down my red face the size of marrowfat peas, my handbag come vomit bowl ready at my feet, holding my nose while chewing with my mouth open in the hope it would help somehow... And really hoping there wasn't a cctv camera nearby so I wouldn't end up on Youtube!
Several torturous minutes later, it was over! I did it! I was traumatised but slowly returning to normal. I put my plate away, hid the couple of dozen empty jam sachets in a napkin and threw them in the bin which was almost my vomit receptacle. Ahhhh.. Now I can relax, WRONG! As other people were going in to the little room with the male nurse, they were coming back out to sit with me in the tiny intimate area with the comfy chairs I had previously had all to myself, I was the first appointment that morning, I now had to sit there and watch everybody else eat their way through a plate full of evil! I took my phone out of my handbag... Again!
Nobody enjoyed it, even the ones who said "I don't mind a bit of bread and butter" were struggling. It was a good thing in a way, it started off a lovely conversation in that waiting area, we ended up having a great time, we all agreed that if we had to eat some thing so unhealthy, we were all probably there because we had done too much of that in the first place, couldn't it be something good like a full english and a pint of beer! But not NHS beer, god knows what they'd make that from! What was also good was we all had the same appointments for Monday, so we would meet again. The downside, and it's a big un, we all had to do the milk, bread and the good old NHS butter, all over again!!!
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