Just after nine yesterday morning I had a call from the surgeon's secretary to check that I could make the next scheduled appointment for 4th April, as it had been changed from 29th April. Naturally I was utterly delighted to confirm this was a most welcome advancement. But, I hadn't received any notification of the latter appointment date, so please could I have written notification of 4th April. I was promised the letter would be in the mail first class post today.
The last time this was said to me on a Friday, the letter arrived the following Tuesday - such is the mail-out chaos. And that letter, although promised to be mailed first class was sent second class. So I mentioned this mischievously, and put the 4th April in my diary straight away, after doing a little dance of joy around the house. It seems the necessary procedures to be performed are back on schedule for the next step at least.
At midday the snail mail arrived with a letter from the surgeon, recalling the content of the briefing she gave me when we met two weeks ago. An accompanying second letter was the appointment for 29th April now superceded! Anyway, I was pleased to share the good news when I visited the wound clinic later on.
This morning, another appointment letter arrived with the corrected date of 4th April. The secretary had been true to her word and made sure this went out with a first class stamp. Surgery this time will be in effect a maintenance procedure I believe - a change of suture and modifications to both that will make sitting much more comfortable. This has often been a painful and unpredictable problem over past weeks. Each of the wires attached to my body has attached to it to all intents and purposes, a small moveable piece of wire twisted around it to serve as a handle, though what exactly is meant to be manipulated using these devices is anybody's guess. The sutures themselves are nowhere near as hard to live with as these handles. These are due to be changed for something with lower impact. Here's hoping!
We took advantage of the warm sunny weather and clear skies to drive to Dyffryn Gardens for lunch and a walk around the grounds this afternoon. The blossom and bursting buds and early flowering plants astonish with their beauty. My photos are here.
In the evening BBC Four's Euro movie slot delivered an unusual offering from Wallonian auteurs. 'La Fille Inconnue'. It's about a young GP who has an out of hours surgery call from a young African girl in distress, but fails to answer the door. The girl, of whom nothing is known, ends up dead nearby. This distresses the GP greatly, so she starts enquiring, through her patients in the locality who the girl is. She can't bear the thought that he'd be laid to rest unknown in a paupers grave, and hunts until she succeeds, where the police aren't.
It's not a murder but a concealed tragedy. What held my attention was its portrayal of the GP, aged between twenty-five and thirty. Thoughtful, diligent with her poor working class clientele, not presenting herself ostentatiously in any way, she's a model young professional woman, without any superficial glamour. We're given no hint about her personal faith or convictions, but her compassion and respect for people shines through - dead as well as alive.
The movie commentariat speaks of the GP as obsessed with finding out the dead girl's name. It says more about them than it does about a character portrayed with moral fibre. An obsession is a pathological state of mind, but this character portrays wholesome human decency in her concern. It's a perverse tendency, denigrating the motives of others which don't fit easily in our world-view, and it happens when we fail to put ourselves in another's shoes, even in the case of fictional characters.
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