Rottweilers, waiting and sleep

We're nearly there and I think we're going to make it. It was touch and go for a while; lack of sleep, worries about concerts, family, crappy health, and university decisions all made Christmas seem like a far distant improbability but suddenly I woke up this morning (3am) and felt hopeful. Christmas isn't cancelled.

Yesterday's church service practice was perfectly fine. I parked my car at the vicarage to unload all the stands, chime bars, music and costumes (oh yes, even a simple church service is a major production at our school). The vicar was putting out his recycling boxes.

"Goodness, you have got a lot of stuff. Hold on a minute and I'll take you in the tradesman's entrance."

I didn't laugh. Professional as always.

I ended up playing the piano for more than I had expected to, as a colleague who I had bullied into it was suddenly sick. Making music can be a stressful business and many of the pupils had anxieties that needed to be calmed. Many of them won't have slept well tonight. I'd like to tell them that sleep has been in short supply in my life since the beginning of December but I don't think it would help. I'm sure that I've told you that I absolutely hate playing the piano in public. 

I'm paranoid about it too. The church piano has to be thumped to get any kind of sound out of it and a wrong note leaps out and makes me wince. During one of the hymns, I looked up and saw a teacher laughing hysterically. I KNEW IT. Everyone was laughing at me. I should give up. Everyone knows that I play like Les Dawson. I am a figure of fun, so unless I can grow a few extra fingers it is time to admit defeat and stop playing. Let someone else have a go.

But despite my paranoia and stupidly lacking fingers we got through it. And no one had to shout at year 5/6.

The rest of my day was spent with my parents, travelling to the Royal Free Hospital for an appointment. I was there to translate for my mum, who has terrible trouble with anything other than a Dagenham accent and to stop my Dad running up stairs.  I'm not a fan of hospitals. I know some people like them but to me they are big, scary, grubby places full of grumpy people who have forgotten how to laugh.

Doctors are so stressed they order coffee and forget to pick it up at the coffee shop, nurses all look tired and harassed and receptionists have turned into rabid dogs. I had a lot of time to observe a Rottweiler at work, as when we arrived there was a note on the board that said there was a 45 minute delay. We settled down in the tropical heat and discussed whether it would be appropriate to strip down to our vests.

 Rottweiler Number One was on duty. She sat at the desk wearing a tight bodycon mini skirt, trainers and a big thick fluffy pink jumper. She had a small fan on her desk, which she occasionally directed into her face. She took people's forms without looking at them, or speaking to them (if they were lucky). On the right of her computer were a large pile of chocolates and on the left an enormous and ever growing pile of wrappers. 

"I have an appointment on the 22nd that I can't make," said an old Gentleman in a very marked way. He was trying to make himself understood, the way you do in a foreign country. "The 22nd. I. Can't.do."

She waved his forms in the air and said nothing.

"I. Need. To. Change. My. Appointment."
Rottweiler One popped a chocolate in her mouth.
"Can't. Make. 22nd."
"Are you de eye patient?"
"I. Need. To. Change. It."
"But are you here for eye clinic?"
"It's. That. I. Need. A. New. Appointment."
"Eye Clinic."
"Appointment"
She examined his forms again and waved them at him.
"Eyes next door.  Clinic 3."
The old man stood, looking bemused.  Another patient in the queue explained it to him.

We wondered how hard it would have been to say, "I'm sorry this is the wrong clinic.  You need the one next door."

Later, after the fifth patient had been through this routine I did have some sympathy for her but you can't expect patients who have problems with their eyes to be able to distinguish between a 2 and a 3 on a letter or a sign and I'm sure they'd rather deal with Miss Rottie than accidentally have major surgery on something that was working well.

Also, in her defense, she was equally rude to everyone.  The doctors, the nurses, the other hospital staff.  When anyone used the phone on the desk she made a great show of getting out the antibacterial wipes and thoroughly cleaning it.  Colleagues approached her with eye-rolling trepidation. A woman with a hospital badge and a woolly hat, quietly asked her for something to which the answer was, "Nurses."
The lady in the hat snuck up and down the corridor knocking on doors and tutting. When it finally became obvious that she wasn't going to find what she wanted she went back to the desk. 

"Err. I'm sorry. I can't seem to find. I don't know who to. I err. Which nurse did you say?"

Rottie waved her hand dismissively without looking.

"Yes. Nurses. One of them." Then she stared straight at the quaking bobble hat, who rushed off, as if she had been scolded. 

We had now been waiting for an hour and so a nurse came out and changed the sign on the board. The waiting time was now an hour. That was good to know.

She thought she had been waiting a long time.

Rot One had a visit from someone she liked and briefly seemed happy. They discussed going out and what they were going to wear. Patients, telephones, doctors and nurses had to wait while they had their conversation but she did stand up and do a little shimmy, which cheered us all up.

It was now an hour and a half from the appointment time and we considered asking someone, to make sure we hadn't missed being called. It happened to me once, waiting for a blood test I was so engrossed in a conversation between two old ladies that I missed the number being changed.

"Not her, though," my mum insisted.

Spoilsport.

A jolly nurse tried to explain, "You be a very portant patient for the prof. He want to see you 'eesell. Ha ha. De prof fink ye very portan." I translated and we only had to wait another half hour. 

Waiting two hours for a  15 minute consultation seems ridiculous, even to someone like me,  who is quite good at waiting and enjoyed the opportunity to sit down for a while. However, the fact that I woke up this morning feeling full of Christmas cheer makes me hope you all get a long wait before the festivities begin.