Shampoos, Hospitals, and Uncle Rufus....

"Forest Light"

I had occasion to visit hospital today to see a consultant and this was not going to be as straightforward as I thought.
In the first place my wife insisted that not only did I have to have a shower - I could agree with that, but also I had to wash my hair - I couldn't quite see the point of that as the consultant would be looking at my knees not my head.
However as an experienced husband of over thirty years I knew better than to argue so there I was in the shower contemplating the range of shampoos. The old outside toilet has been converted into our shower room and unfortunately the central heating ends in the kitchen. This means that the shower room is  as cold as if still  outdoors - even on a good day you can see your breath - and this is the middle of November which is not a 'good' day.
We have a large range of shampoos from organic 'top of the range' to the highly toxic 'cheapies' that the grand-kids bring to use as they don't like Grandma's organics. I chose a 'mid range' combination of shampoo and conditioner following the simple formula that they were the only ones I could get the lid off. The snazzy looking container informed me that I was washing my hair in a gentle but exhilarating solution that contained apricots. Apparently apricots will leave me with a lasting shine....what more can I say.
We have a metal stopper that fits over the drain hole. It fits extremely tightly and does an excellent job of keeping the bugs out. Unfortunately it also does a very good job of keeping the water in and when the water level was somewhere round my knees, I realised that I had left the darned thing in.  Putting on my dressing gown, soaking wet, and with my hair plastered in apricot conditioner I  had to get Merice to rescue me. She gave me a knife that I used to prise the grate off and allow the water to run away.
The next hurdle to negotiate was what to wear to see a consultant. It seemed a moot point as I would be removing my trousers anyway but I was instructed to put on my 'best' ones. The last time I wore these was in January to visit the Royal Academy - now that was worth making a fuss of, but dutifully I demurred.
So dressed in my 'best' and with hair shining we finally made it to the hospital.The first thing is to find somewhere to park. This I eventually did but it was so far away from the entrance that I decided to wait for the hospital shuttle bus!
Remember I had an appointment with a consultant about my damaged knees. I don't suppose he just dealt with knees but probably all kind of arthritic ailments that made it very difficult for his patients to get about. That being the case you would have thought he would be given suitable rooms near the entrance to see his hapless patients - but no. His assigned rooms were right at the back of the hospital and this meant another long hike down endless corridors following the green line for me and other poor sods caught up in the treadmill.
The consultant though was very pleasant. He seemed to know what he was talking about and looked the kind of man you could trust to stick a knife into you....as if!
He asked me if I was happy - I said "yes"- "Good" he replied "come back and see me just before you get miserable and I'll sort your knees out then."
My kind of medical lingo, and my kind of consultant.
Uncle Rufus never went to hospital and he did not wash his hair for the last thirty years of his life. You wouldn't know it though for after a while his own scalp oils worked their magic and his hair was luxuriant and shining without the assistance of apricot or anything else. He died aged 94 after a long fulfilling life. He only gave up then because his beloved Mary had gone and he didn't want to live without her.
I hope I do as well.

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