MRI dismay

On the way to her morning study group, Clare dropped me off at Llandough Hospital at a quarter to ten this morning for a MRI pelvic scan. At half ten I was escorted to a mobile scanner unit located in the yard outside the Orthopaedic Unit, and subjected to five scans over the period of an hour. The last time I had this procedure was when I was about to shed a kidney stone, at New Year in 2009. Then I had to undress completely and leave outside any metallic objects. This time I wasn't required to undress, just uncover my pelvis to make room for a device which fitted over the area to be scanned, possibly to focus the magnetic field that generates the resonance images. 

The scanner made five passes. Three with the machine making one frequency noise, then two more in a slightly different position at another. I think the second two were directed at my liver and right kidney to probe the anomalous signals registered by last week's ultrasound. I asked the scanner operator how long it would take for the report to reach the surgical team who had commissioned the scan and was disappointed to hear him say four or five weeks. Not much urgency there, I thought. I must ask my GP to chase it up. A long wait isn't improving things and may be taking its toll on me.

I walked out of the hospital an hour later and within a few minutes boarded a 95 bus. This dropped me at the end of Lansdown Road in Canton, a fifteen minute walk home. It conveniently offered an opportunity to do some shopping and then cook lunch in time for Clare's arrival. The inflammation today was worse than usual and I had to rest and recover after lunch. Then I wrote to my GP and took the letter around to the surgery, to get some exercise. Then, another evening in front of the telly with unseen episodes of NCIS and Bull. Rather too much of Michael Weatherly for one evening to be honest.

Goodbye Golf

I walked to the doctor's surgery before eight yesterday to queue for a 'book on the day' appointment, and got one for ten forty with a young doctor, Dr Mullaney, who I think has joined the practice fairly recently, as she shares a consulting room with Dr Dyban, and has a name plate on the door. I gave her a summary of Friday night's little drama, and as a result, she booked me in for a blood test. Also she ordered an appointment for an ultrasound scan of my gall bladder, about which I should hear in the next few days, hopefully. It's a good idea to get as early an assessment as possible so a treatment plan can be made.

Phil of NG Motors got in touch to say that the VW Polo the garage has for sale is ready to be seen by us, now a small amount of remedial work has been done. He arranged for a couple of his mechanics to drive over with a spare charged battery to get the Golf working and drive it back to their place. It will save me lots of hassle. These guys are so kind and helpful. With a live battery plumbed in it burst into life with gusto, as it usually does. I admit I felt a small pang of regret at letting go of it. This car I've kept longer than any other I've had in fifty years of driving, and it's certainly been the best value to us, scruffy or not. Here's the Golf, taking its leave of us.

If we're happy when we've seen the Polo, Pil will MoT it and take the Golf in part exchange, rather than dispose of it or send it for scrap. I arranged to take a look today, and went over to Splott at noon today, all the way on the 61 bus. I was surprised by its good looks. Even more surprised by the fact that its number plate ends JKK - my initials. It has my name on it, evidently!

The car is twelve years old, with one owner, looked after by the garage for most of its life. It's in immaculate condition for its age, and in a stylish metallic slate grey. It only has thirty nine thousand  miles on the clock. It's a bargain at £1500 for someone like me who prefers a car that isn't internet connected, with lots of advanced technology. Having said that, it does have electric windows and central locking, I think. It has a 1.2 litre engine, so it's in a lower tax bracket and does 50mpg at 50mph. Adequate performance for me, with no need to commute to work, or drive great distances non stop any longer, and best of all, it's economical.

I transferred ownership of the Golf to the garage, and will take ownership of the Polo when I return tomorrow to with the money to complete the exchange. I only sat in the car, to make sure, as Clare insisted, that it was big and comfortable enough for me to sit in and drive. At full stretch I'd take someone with legs three inches longer than mine.

Mission accomplished, I returned home via the city centre, on the 'clockwise' city centre circle number one bus, making the same mistake as last time, as it went a time consuming roundabout way back to the centre, from thence I caught the usual 61. I can't yet identify where to pick it up over in Splott. Next time I must try the anti-clockwise circle bus instead.

Back home, after a very late lunch, I modified my Aviva car insurance policy to cover the new car, using the excellent  MyAviva app on my tablet. The change only cost me seven quid, which was most pleasing. The rest of day, I lay low, watching catch up episodes of NCIS on My5.

A world tour starting in Cardiff

I celebrated the Eucharist at St Catherine's this morning. I drafted a sermon for Sunday, and then in the afternoon went into town to look for a new camera bag. I found just what I needed in the shop where I habitually go to buy cameras and accessories kit, Cardiff Camera Centre, a family firm with two shops and an internet store as well.

Road closures were already under way when I arrived, as there was a concert in the stadium, the start of Rhianna and Jayzee's world tour. An armed response police team was located prominently at the entrance, for public reassurance after last year's Manchester stadium bombing.

The streets were unusually busy for a Wednesday, and lots of people were relaxing out doors, chatting drinking, either at tables or standing in the street. The only jarring note was the sound of breaking glass, as a few people accidentally dropped or toppled a drink. For some strange reason, the public safety injunction applying on match days, that drinks be served only in disposable plastic wasn't in force, and it meant that broken glass was being trodden under foot. Not very desirable in the sandal wearing season. 

Whenever there's a large crowd in town, discarded rubbish accumulates, especially after normal Council working hours, so the quality of the environment soon deteriorates. I makes me wish our city was more like Malaga where street sweepers are numerous and work in shifts from early morning until late at night, and take a pride in keeping the streets clean. The sight of broken glass is rare. How anybody with safety oversight as part of their job, whether Council, Licensee or Police didn't expect a seventy thousand pre-concert drinking crowd in summer to be outdoors is a mystery to me. 

More episodes of NCIS watched on catch-up this evening. Interesting to see how a change of actors to reflect greater inclusivity is reflected in squad room personnel. A Latino, a black Brit, an Afghan and added prominence to female leads among them.