An Unexpected Day Off.

I bet you were not expecting a blog from me today, especially as on my last blog I'd said I wouldn't be posting until Friday. To be honest I didn't expect to be writing this either but it hasn't exactly been my most successful twelve hours ever. For a start today marks my sixteenth month on the transplant list and still no sign of any call but my troubles really started when I was getting ready for bed.

Last night I brushed my teeth before going to bed, as you do. As I'd been eating a lot of meat and chocolate I decided to go that extra mile and give them a good flossing too. I sat on the edge of the bath sawing away and trying not to dribble when suddenly the floss refused to move. I tugged, I pulled and I began to panic. The stuff was well and truly stuck. Seeking help I went into the bedroom where Peter was already tucked up and reading a book. He took one look at me with this long thread of floss hanging out of my mouth and started laughing hysterically. I was by now hysterical myself, partly from panic and partly from laughter. Between gasps I explained my predicament but it quickly became apparent the Peter was going to of no use whatsoever.

So I went to Andrew's room and explained again. He too burst out laughing but at least did offer to help. He got his little torch out and shone it in my mouth. Gave a few experimental tugs on the floss and said. 'My word, you have got it stuck haven't you'! Over the course of the next twenty minutes he tried everything from cocktail sticks to tweezers, all without success. By now I was laughing so much tears were running down my face but my mouth was also becoming very sore. It was when he advanced on me with a steel probe, with a very sharp point,  from his dissecting kit that I finally called a halt. Nothing that had been inside a rat or frog was going in my mouth, no matter how many alcohol wipes he used on it. In the end I used the tweezers to pull as much as I could from my teeth and left it at that. I still have some stuck in there this morning but I'm going to give it a couple of days to see if it can work it's own way out. If not I'm going to have to visit the dentist.

This morning I was awake at quarter to six and reluctantly showered and dressed for work. I made myself some sandwiches, as the canteen would be closed this being a bank holiday, and stuffed crisps, fruit and nuts into my bag to see me through the day. It was a horrible drive in with thick fog and the occasional sprinkling of rain. The roads were very quiet though so I got there rather early. I walked in and said my good mornings and then one of my colleagues informed me that I shouldn't be there. 'You're on leave.'
'I am?'
'Yes!'
I have to say this surprised me as I don't remember booking leave for today or indeed getting any granted. I went over to speak to my supervisor who confirmed that, according to the computer, I was indeed on leave. Confused I left as quickly as my little legs would carry me. I'm sure it is some sort of mess up but as I've worked every bank holiday, including Christmas, for over a year I wasn't going to query it. If the computer says I'm on leave, I'm on leave and that's good enough for me.

So I returned home, changed, made myself a cuppa and read the newspaper. Now what to do with my extra day? Well I've got some chocolate eggs and the rest of the cake to finish off. And if I'm bored I could have another go at removing my floss. Next blog will definitely be on Friday.