ETA 12.40… ETD 1.20 huzzah! Unbelievable. Absolute gold star material.
After a pretty distracting drive to Lismore with me twitching in my seat, trying desperately not to let rip all over Lucy’s golden arm chair – otherwise known as her near vintage merc – whilst simultaneously trying to hang onto my nearing full bladder, we arrived with me in a pretty desperate state, which sadly, s a good thing in my current circumstances. A quick scan, a promising raise of nurse Jodie’s eyebrow and I was shunted off to the nuking department crossing my legs and clenching my butt. Onto the table, voice my details… Prue Mitchell, 12/9/62/ Sufflok Park, Pelvis… Say see ya in a tic to the radiation technicians and cross my fingers their scan marries with the pre scanner. I await an eternity for the announcement over the PA, ‘Prue, we’re good to go’. I shout out a whoop whoop hoping like hell I don’t release… Anything. A few minutes later we’re done and dusted and if I hadn’t been bursting at the seams down below, I would have skipped out of there.
Lucy makes a celebratory vegemite Sao whilst I send a quick many thumbs up text to m’darlink from my nearly flat phone and pay homage to the porcelain before high tailing it to the car. Feeling on top of the world – bordering on the pre squatter Prue – we settle into our respective seats while Lucy turns the ignition. Gulp, nothing. She tries again – nothing. And again, and again. Uh oh… NRMA here we come. Lucy dials the number only to be told her phone credit has expired. No problem she says, I’ll just top it up. Dial dial, press press… So many fucking options… Press hashtag when done. No worries, sorted. Right, now onto theNRMA… Dial dial… The same annoying Optus voice again tells Lucy, she still has no credit – WTF? Lucy curses and still able to use data checks her balance, it reveals there’s $100 in her account. She tries again…. Nothing. And again… Nothing. If only my phone hadn’t been flat, damn it.
We return inside to reception and use the landline and borrow an iPhone charger. Twenty minutes later the NRMA diagnoses the starter motor… You’ll need to be towed. Arrrrggghh. Lucy’s mechanic is in Ballina. Farrrk, now we have to wait for a tow truck. Oh what a top day this is turning out to be.
Fortunately, Lucy had made a Lucy style sandwich to share and had a thermos of tea so we made ourselves comfortable on the hospital verandah and waited. Meantime I made arrangements with Osteopath Eve to meet us in Ballina. From that moment things went swimmingly, until my energy levels slipped into current squatter host mode and I lost my mojo.
What a f’king day. Lucy kept apologising, like it was her fault and I highlighted that if I didn’t have a squatter, neither of us would even been in this shitty situation.
Here’s hoping tomorrow is a better day. Good luck with the golden arm chair Loothey.