What A Difference A Day Makes; Hysterical Funny Joke from David; Such Pain But Surgery Scheduled; Short Ribs with Spinach

David’s timing is impeccable and my goodness we shall be able to get the word of the day out of the way. Impeccable, an adjective whose synonyms are: flawless, faultless, unblemished, spotless, stainless, untarnished, perfect, exemplary, ideal, model; virtuous, pure, moral, sinless, upright, irreproachable, unimpeachable, blameless, guiltless, above suspicion, beyond reproach, beyond criticism, incorrupt, uncorrupted; informal squeaky clean, whiter than white, lily-white, as pure as the driven snow. ANTONYMS imperfect; sinful.

How was David timing so unblemished, so exemplary, so beyond reproach, so whiter than white? He sent a marvellous joke about Brexit on the very day that I was basically cleared to go to the United Kingdom, using the prophesies from doctors and they will enable me to come to the UK being fit as a fiddle. Here is the joke which is entitled Hospital Consultants and Brexit.

Physicians were unable to reach a consensus – should Brexit take place?

The Allergists were in favour of scratching it, but the Dermatologists advised not to make any rash moves.

The Gastroenterologists had sort of a gut feeling about it, but the Neurologists thought the Brexiters had a lot of nerve.

Meanwhile, Obstetricians felt certain everyone was labouring under a misconception, while the Ophthalmologists considered the idea short sighted.

Pathologists yelled, “Over my dead body!” while the Paediatricians said, “Oh, grow up!”

The Psychiatrists thought the whole idea was madness, while the Radiologists could see right through it.

Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the whole thing and the Internists claimed it would indeed be a bitter pill to swallow.

The Plastic Surgeons opined that May’s proposal would “put a whole new face on the matter.”

The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward, but the Urologists would flush the whole idea down the drain.

Anaesthesiologists thought it was all gas, and those lofty Cardiologists didn’t have the heart to say no.

In the end, the Proctologists won out, leaving the final decision up to the idiotic Parliamentarians.

Yesterday was an absolutely huge day. I bought a new phone – for strange reasons I have a Canadian phone, a London phone and now a USA phone. I called friends in the 415 area code in sheer delight.

Me: I am so happy!! A have a new number, now I am not a Canadian anymore with my American area code.

I left two messages but reached two people, one of which was driving. It was a strange conversation with me in the throes of ecstasy because I felt that way. Then it was off to the surgeon for an appointment that was both anticipatory and dreaded. But it all worked out in strange and wonderful ways. I have the utmost of confidence in the physician (no matter what he thinks about Brexit). He took my history, looked at my right knee and left to look at the xray. He walked back into the room and said:

He: No wonder you were in so much pain!

Me: Well that is good to hear, I hate thinking I was a big baby.

Then it was time for more X-rays and another miracle. The wonderful woman who pictured me had lived in Vancouver and just hated it as well. We had so much fun hating Vancouver, laughing at the improbability of it all. She took me back to the consulting room and we had the following conversation.

Me: The doctor has so much compassion! He said that it was no wonder I was in such pain.

But at this point I broke down in huge heaving sobs. Perhaps It was because I had been trying so hard for months to be brave but and now both the doctor and Alexis McBride realized how hard this had been.

She: Can I get you a glass of water?

Me: Yes please! You are clairvoyant!

But good news followed as I was able, within minutes, to set schedule the surgery and determine where the knee replacement will be done. I am going to get a cute new knee on April 22, 2019 at the Novato Community Hospital. The doctor predicts that I will be able to travel to London in about a month so I can celebrate my seventy-sixth birthday at the Rex Whistler Restaurant conveniently located in the Tate Britain in London (England not Ontario). I have a great taxi driver called Jospeh who picks me up and drives me places. His origins are Haitian. I breakfasted with a fascinating man who shall remain nameless because of his views on social media. We talked for hours and certainly had the other guests at breakfast wondering what was going on between us. Just fantastic conversation and the exchange of ideas. His eighteen year old daughter keeps up with social media and will translate for him.

It is raining but I need toothpaste. I might stop in at my favourite place for a glass of wine – I had the beef short ribs for dinner and were they ever good! So at this point life seems perfect. The word will be going out to friends later today. I am considering staying right here for my recuperation as I like it and my internist is just down the street should I have any problems. He gives me such a feeling of safety and security which will be needed in those post surgery days.

The picture is of the short ribs – I admit that I did not eat the spinach. I hate vegetables.

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