It's May. It's May! It's May?? Wow, it's May.
I was writing the date down this morning in work, and I paused when I realised it was May already. I am coming up to the anniversary of my first transplant call. It's not something I will mark, and I certainly won't be lighting any candles on cakes and then quickly blowing them out to signify the transplant that almost happened. But at the same time, it's in the back of my mind. It was around this time that it dawned on me that I must be pretty sick. Denial has always been my best coping mechanism, so it was a bit of a shock to realise that they wanted me transplanted so soon. Especially since I knew people who I considered to be far sicker then me, and who had been waiting far longer.
I can ramble on about the events that took place that day/evening, and will do closer to the date. I'll wait for a mundane day with NOTHING happening and then I'll gabble about it.
The only other interesting thing of significance, which successfully made its way around the WHOLE office was a slight 'incident' that occurred mid morning. You see, I decided, as you do, that I needed to pop to the ladies. All was going fine, GREAT even. I waltzed into the the pokey COSY loo, looked around, thought it looked acceptable.
Toilet roll? Check
Clean floors? Check
Light? Check
Everything seemed fine. I glanced at my watch and realised that break was just on its way. I had better HURRY! So what did I do? I did what anyone would do. I closed the door and LOCKED it. Well, that went fine, until I pulled my hand away and the HANDLE. CAME. OFF. IN. MY. HAND!
Oh. CRUMBS.
THAT did NOT just happen!! I looked at the pathetic handle in my hand, back to the door with absent handle and then back to my hand again. I stuck my little finger in the hole to try and fix it but to no avail. I ran the events back over in my head while looking at handle and door back and forth.This was the kind of thing that happened in my nightmares!! I called my good colleague KM for help. OVER and over and over again. Nothing. Zilch. I knocked on the door, cursing the fact that I had no phone on me. I pondered the idea of going to the toilet first and then worry about my rescue afterwards, but let's just say, the idea of a group of my colleagues finally pounding down the door only for them all to FAINT due to 'an odour or two' would be even worse then my current situation.
SO I decided to shout for another few people./ Trusty G-raze heard me and came out. I told her sweetly to 'COME HERE!' and I explained in a mature manner my predicament. She. fell. around. Laughing. SOME HELP!!
Anyway with the aid of another one or two people, we got the lock/handle problem resolved. By the end of the day, everyone had heard. My boss (as in the guy who runs the show in that place, don't get much bigger then he) came up with a nickname for me. It's too rude to repeat though. Needless to say, my visa for ''Swallows-ville- the hole in the ground underneath me' is about to be finalised, and I saw some lovely head shaped paper bags in Tesco this evening.
