The Doctor will see you now...

I learnt a new thing the other day. You have to warm up your coins in the palm of your hand before they will be accepted by car park machines. Who knew? The man behind me in the queue, thank goodness. My coins kept being returned to me and the clock was ticking towards my appointment time and I was getting slightly annoyed. The kindly stranger told me his trick and it worked a treat.

Rushing through the automatic doors proved problematic as I was quicker than they were and the right side of my face met with the screen full on. Not a good start, especially for an eye appointment. An hour's wait helped my bumped face settle down and I was getting quite into my book by the time my name was called.

I saw the consultant about my eyes, as have been having a few headaches and behind the eye pains, plus my mum has glaucoma, so it was advised I got checked out for it too. It turns out that I have closed angle glaucoma which can be treated by laser iridology that apparently doesn't hurt and has a relatively short recovery time, including wearing of sunglasses for a few weeks outside.

There's just something about hospitals. I don't really understand why some people hate being in them so much. I get that if you are really ill or nervous about an operation, you might not want to be inside one but I, personally, love them. I immediately feel looked after when I come into one and everyone seems so friendly and smiley.

Walking through the corridors, I felt like I was in an episode of Casualty and it made me want to work as a medical secretary again or train to be a nurse. I like the idea of wearing a white coat, high heels, red lipstick and my hair tied up with my glasses on, marching about holding a clipboard and looking important. I also covet the job of the hospital radio DJ. Who knows which direction I'll take, We'll have to see...