It's later than usual this year, almost as late as it can get in fact. I celebrated the Penitential Mass of the day at St Catherine's with ten others, including the Reverend Emma, whose day off it is, but as she said to me on Sunday, how right it would be to be on the receiving end, in the pew. Instead of an off the cuff address, I prepared a brief homily last night, to stop me rambling on as long as I can do. I didn't want to be out of the house for too long in case the surgeon rang, which she didn't. After lunch, however, walking back home from the wound clinic, my mobile rang and I had a good ten minute chat with her.
She has my next round of surgery booked at week eight as stated at the outset, but given that the hospital outpatient appointment booking system is so overloaded currently, she is arranging to see me at UHW in a ward consulting room, on a day when she will be doing her round of patients! It's a nice piece of lateral thinking. And the date? March 19th, St Joseph the Worker's Day. It's only a few days later than when I was expecting to be seen.
An assessment of healing progress will apparently determine whether one Seaton's suture or both are removed. If one, then there'll be another procedure later on. She couldn't be specific about the repair she'd done without having her case notes to hand. It's 'complex', is all anyone has been prepared to say who has examined me since mid December, and getting it right is vital to prevent recurrence. It's a matter of waiting, but now, waiting with some sense of direction, thankfully.
I am temperamentally prone to impatience, and have had to learn how to wait, train myself to some extent, to take a long view and work towards goes with care and attention, not always successfully. Being a patient for most of Lent ahead is imposed on me. A suitable penance? I wonder how I can make this fruitful for soul as well as body?
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