The first morning back to work after a break is always a bit chaotic. We had a class going off on a week’s residential trip this morning and so the hall was full of weeping mothers – some weeping out of concern and a sense of loss, other out of sheer relief. I am always amazed at the luggage that turns up, and attempts to smuggle things like hair-straighteners, Body Shop stock rooms and HUGE packed lunches into cases. (I remember on one trip I organised, a boy was being sick before we had even got on the coach! When asked if he had eaten anything on the way to school, he confessed to two pork pies and a beef jerky. Not good! ) Additionally this morning, I noticed one younger pupil arriving with a huge fake tattoo right up the back of his neck. "Like Daddy," he told me... Anyway, to cut a long story short (which I hate doing) I got the dreaded ‘Number Withheld’ call amidst all the chaos. In the recent scans my kidneys are looking enlarged again, and so I am off for a blood test this afternoon. I meet with my consultant on Friday when he will basically go through the two scans in detail and explain ‘implications.’ I confess to being uptight about this; I was put onto morphine recently but it isn’t completely sorting the problem. That said, I am not in agony and am still able to get on with life’s normal tasks, such as exploring tattoo removal on the NHS.
For those pray-ers amongst you, mats at the ready please. I will let you know how Friday goes.
