Needles, and needling

I had a blood test done at the doctors this afternoon. I’d put up with all the nagging from Philippa, and the promptings from my staff members, without giving in, but when your immediate superior insists on a GP appointment because he’s found you asleep in your office, then maybe it’s time to see sense.
I was dealt with by a rather unhealthy looking, overweight ‘nurse practitioner’ who treated my arm like it was a rabid dog that needed putting down. Not the most gentle of needle entries my veins have ever experienced. I asked her what she was testing for and she mumbled ‘thyroid stuff, liver count, and some stuff you’d rather not know about.’
I don’t expect them to find anything interesting, but the simple act of me trotting along to the doctors has had an amazing affect on my home life. Philippa is fussing around me like a relieved parent and insisting I relax and let her do things for me. This time yesterday I was an insensitive, selfish bastard who deserved every painful second of the death that was almost certainly imminent. Bloody women. 

In other news - only 2 more nights of GMT, and only 7 days til Good Friday!!!

RC 23-3-18