I've never really been one for tattoos. OK, so other people have tattoos. Of course in New Zealand it's the norm and I just accept it but it's taken me a while to get used to just how many girls and ladies in the UK now have tattoos: more than men it seems. But I never thought that I'd get to this age and have tatoos myself. Well today I went to Glasgow and came home with three. And guess where they are? One on each thigh and one in a place where very few people outside the medical profession are ever going to see it!
Actually it's been a very odd sort of a day. I've mentioned how it all panned out on Eagleton Notes. But I didn't mention why I was in Glasgow. I was at The Beatson which is Scotland's centre of excellence for cancer treatment. It is there that I will be having my radiotherapy and it is there I went today for my positioning scans ie to determine exactly where they are going to point the guns which fire whatever it is they fire at one's innards to kill off the cancer cells. Well they'll hopefully kill them if they are where they think that they might be. After all they are only talking about a 20% chance of them being around the site of the original operation which is where the guns will aim. But, hey, 20% is better than 0%.
But although I've had a really Good Day one thing struck home. How very lucky I am. When I saw just how many patients at The Beatson were at Outpatients and how many were wandering round and obviously in-patients (why does one have a hyphen and the other not?) and how ill they looked I realised just how lucky I am. I'm not ill! I was by far the fittest person I saw who wasn't wearing an identity badge. Yes. I'm lucky. I'm very lucky. I don't have to play the Glad Game because I ain't got nothing to be not glad about.