This morning we experienced transport hell as only London can provide. We booked a cab to get to our appointment with The Business in Harley Street, but unfortunately our clueless driver didn’t know how to avoid nightmare areas like Trafalgar Square. It took 70 minutes to traverse 6.5 miles.
The Business was patiently waiting for our arrival but had nothing new to tell us. The tumour analysis results aren’t in and won’t be until sometime next week. He couldn’t remove the staples either as the wound isn’t sufficiently healed.
He did remove the dressing as the wound needs some air. It’s very neat, and quite amazing – they have literally created a door in B’s head.
For my own amusement I wish I could get him to put on some rags and fake blood and lurch, groaning, past the Pizza Express next door to our flat, with all the parents and small children sitting outside in the sunshine. That would certainly liven up a family dinner.
B is in quite a positive mood today. He can’t concentrate on reading yet but is enjoying The infinite monkey cage podcast (thanks Jude for the tip).
He is most definitely the B I know and love, which is a relief after the surgeon mentioned that his personality may change after the surgery. He and I were both afraid that he’d wake up liking football and Michael McIntyre, but thankfully that hasn’t happened.