It's been a rubbish week, all things considered...
On Tuesday, as my twitter followers will know, I had an interview for my Masters degree. I wasn't particularly looking forward to it anyway, but the journey there was just a massive farce.
My interview was at half past one, and I planned to get there two and a half hours beforehand. This bit of overplanning was so that I could squeeze in a drink with some friends before my interview. I did not squeeze in a drink, and nor did I see my friends. I was, in fact, LATE.
Basically, without revisiting too many painful details, my first train was cancelled and the one after it was late. I then missed the next two connections because of the fiasco with the first one. I was sat around in Preston train station for about three days knowing that I was going to be late, and I couldn't do anything about it. It was horrendous.
I got there eventually though. And then I had my interview. We won't be speaking of that particular incident though. Ever.
On Wednesday, I was due to have a nasty tooth removed. There was an exposed nerve or something that seemed to have twisted itself around my tooth. To be honest, it was really painful. I wasn't excited about the operation, but I recognised the need for it and resolved to be grown-up about it. Good for me, I thought.
I had waited three and a half months for this appointment, and yet when I got there, I was told that NOT ONLY was I booked in for the wrong treatment but IT WAS ON THE WRONG FUCKING BIT.
That is just... well, it's a staggering example of the state of the NHS really, isn't it? Basically, the consultant thought I was having my wisdom teeth out under a local anaesthetic. When I pointed out this mistake, the consultant MAGICALLY got me an appointment in Day Surgery for the following morning for the operation that I was supposed to have. I think this was because I probably looked like the kind of person who was about to threaten legal action.
The operation that I actually had needed to be done under general anaesthetic because it could be quite traumatic. For that to happen, I had to not eat or drink from midnight on Wednesday, because my appointment was at 7.30AM on Thursday. That might seem boring, but it becomes important in a second.
So, we come to THURSDAY. I arrived at the hospital with my little bag of pyjamas and things at 7.15AM.
At 1.30PM, (THAT'S HALF PAST ONE IN THE AFTERNOON!) I was still sat in a waiting room, waiting for my turn to see the nurse and get into my special operation bed. There was one other person who was also in the same situation, but she would have been quite happy to never ever get her operation done, so she was glad of the wait. Other people, who had been allowed to eat breakfast, kept coming in and getting seen and getting into their special operation bed, BUT NOT ME. No. I had to wait until 2PM.
That wasn't even the worst bit. The worst bit was when I got into the little room where they knock you out before the operation. Apparently, I have the smallest veins that the doctor - who assured me that she had over twenty years of experience - had ever encountered. Because of my small veins, it took five attempts in five different areas to get the needle in. And it hurt. The needle ended up in the fat bit of my forearm, and has caused a bruise that is large and unattractive. There are various bruises now covering my arms and face, but that one is definitely the worst. I won't post a picture.
Now, I know that there are people wandering around with horrible illnesses and stuff that cause them a great amount of discomfort. But toothache definitely seems worse when you are the one suffering from it.
Your arm fell off, did it? Well my tooth hurts, go away.