Some of you will be aware that I have a condition known as haemochromotosis. It’s a condition which requires fortnightly blood letting else my iron levels get so high I develop super powers. With the blood letting I’m as normal as everyone else.
But it’s a pain. A real pain. Every second Monday I have to travel to the hospital, find a parking space, get out of work, arrange for the kids after school and have a huge needle pushed into my arm and watch a bag fill with a litre of my precious red stuff. This is the cost of maintaining my health. And that’s why I’m so grateful.
In this country I’m not hoping my insurance covers it. I’m not being sent a bill. And the doctors and nurses aren’t expecting a small brown envelope stuffed full of fivers to get me up the queue.
The wait each Monday could be shorter I suppose but the drinks are free, the staff highly qualified and the needle glistening and sharp.
This is a simple exercise in gratitude that I run through if I ever feel myself begrudging my regular trip. And I’m awaiting that needle now. And I’m very grateful for it, the NHS and the nurse that’s going to treat me.