O such a pointless day

Every one is going to die.

Even the Highlander died and he was immortal. You should probably all get use to the idea that this will happen, that way when it does you wont do anything stupid like cry and call out for your mum. Two days ago I was so worried about my life ending that I created a file on my P.C. entitled 'In case The Worst Happens' it included a list of all my passwords to everything that I access online. This was so my parents in the case of my death could go online and close them all down. What brought on this fear, I was going to have my tonsils out.

I know it was just my tonsils nothing bad could happen plus almost everyone has already had them removed. There is no sound reason for me to be worried, except that is the warning on a leaflet given to me letting me know that i had a one in a million chance of death. O is that all? This does not sound to bad really until you take in to consideration that a) I'm one of the most unluckiest people on earth, everything that can go wrong usually does and b) the chances of winning the lottery are 1 in 14 million. For me that little statistic explains life perfectly. You have more chance of dying from a random accident then you do from being wealthy without really working for it. I was originally going to write that you have more chance dying from a random accident then you do from being happy. But its no guarantee that money will make you happy, it sure fucking helps of course.

So its 6 pm the day before I go to hospital I eat my last meal (a delicious chicken pasta salad) and start the long wait. Not sure why but as soon as you know you cant eat that when you get hungry but i held out, nothing past my lips except water. I lay in bed most the night absolutely bricking it. I should add that its not just the fear of death, I don't like hospitals anyway. In all honesty who the fuck does? They remind me of pain and death, sometimes my pain but to date not my death. I eventually doze off at about 3 am to wake up 4 hours later. I don't usually have breakfast but typically on this day all I can think about is getting some cereal, again I don't give in. Time slows to a crawl as I wait, T.V. and the Internet offer me no comfort. Its now quarter to eleven and my dad shouts time to go.

The car journey is quick and painless for the most part, but sadly my dad like most drivers on the planet believe the road should be just for them so i do have to deal with his muttering allot about other drivers going to slow or to quick. I honestly dream of a time when all cars are driven by robots but if the media has taught us anything its that A.I. devices will try to take over the world so maybe we can wait a little longer. Anyway on the way to Tunbridge Wells hospital we stop at my mums work place to pick up her stuff and i say goodbye. At the time it felt like the kind of goodbye soldiers said to there mums just before D-Day. We continue on to the hospital but dad wasn't to sure where to drop me off so he suggest I ask for guidance at the A&E department. Once I leave the car I realize this is a stupid idea and double back t the main entrance.

As I enter I use the hand cleaner, which as a side note is one of my movie flashbacks I have a couple, when ever i use those hand sanitizers i always picture myself as Joker in The Dark Knight. Another is when I'm pushing any type of trolley I always picture myself as the guy at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark as he pushes the ark thought the warehouse. Anyway as I enter the building I'm greeted by the familiar smell of hospital, you know what I mean the smell of clean but not a nice clean. I see signs pointing me to the E.N.T. department (that's ears nose and throat to all you not in the know) I head down the corridor that never seems to end until I get to the right area. When I reach there I bump into an old work colleague from woolies we say hello and she explains that she is loosening her hearing. I shout OK and goodbye and then go to the front desk. I'm told almost instantly that I'm in the wrong place and i need to go back to the entrance then head upstairs. So back I head down the never ending corridor.

Level 6, visiting hours 3 till 5. I make a note of this as my mum said she will visit me when she finishes work. I bump into a nurse just a second after reading this info, she takes my name and point me towards the waiting room. The waiting room seems to be a judgement of how much your loved, including myself through out the time I'm in there , there are 3 guys on there own myself the youngest the others one about 40 and the third in his 60's. A few old couples, who have obviously been together for ever. One woman who seems to have brought her man, her sisters and all there partners along with them. A granny who is there with her daughter and grand daughter. Plus a middle aged couple. One by one all these people are lead out leaving myself the single guy in his 40's and one of the old couples, I find out that sadly these 3 have been here since 8 a.m. and its a little funny that everyone else will be seen before them this includes my self . But fuck em they should have gone private.

After an hour I get called out to speak with the anaesthetist, she looks through my notes and ask me what my doctor said about my high blood pressure, I respond by saying that I hadn't seen her about it. She ask why not? I explain that although i was told my blood pressure is high I was told that I should speak to my GP about it sometime in the future so I happily left it. This does not make the anaesthetist happy with me (from now on the anaesthetist will simply be called ANAES because I'm getting real fucking tired of writing it out). The anaes informs me they will have to test my blood pressure again and if its to high then I might not get the operation as it will be to risky at that time i wonder if that mean I would have a one in half a million chance of dying but i don't ask. She takes my blood pressure while she ask about my general health, no I don't smoke, no I don't drink often, yes I exercise. This seems to shock her, yes I exercise. I go for a mile long walk every day, every other day I lift weights. She does not believe me.

Her attitude about my weight changes with every sentence some times I'm to big boned other times I'm a little heavy and every now and again I'm dangerously over weight. She keeps coming back to the working out, like I'm going to change my story but I stick to it. For some reason she believes that 6 months of exercise should have magically fixed a life time of over eating. They test my blood pressure again and the anaes tells me its to risky to preform the op, she then tells me all the risk attached to having high blood pressure and that I'll die young from a mix of having a stroke, heart attack and my balls will fall off. Well not that last part but you get the drift. As i leave the hospital relived that I don't have to have the op I find myself genuinely unconcerned about this new issue, sure at the end of the day I was turned away from surgery for being to fat and yeah I feel like that kid at secondary school being picked on again because of my weight. But at that current moment I would rather be a fat guy walking away from hospital then a thin guy running the million to one risk of dying on the operating table.

This story should end here as its gone on for fucking ages but I feel I should also mention my music on my phone, I deleted most of it to put a few of the harry potter audio books on there so I would have something to listen to. Its only a small detail but it pissed me of greatly now that I have to sort that all out again. There is another few hundred little notes and changes I could make but I'll save those for future blogs. Anyway if you managed to read all of this with out getting bored hats of to you and I guess i hope you enjoyed. love you xoxoxoxo