What a circus.

Woke up this morning around 2.30am, sick as a dog. Managed to get back to sleep, but woke up a few more hours later and am still sick.

Ring the local doctor when the medical group opens. Go in for appointment... Wait for doctor, musing over my gladness that I hadn't managed to lose an arm or been bitten by a red-bellied black snake or something "urgent."

See the doctor. Pain, pain, pain. Doctor tells me to get to hospital ASAP and so I head home to get organised to do so. I'm nearly all the way to the hospital when my phone rings.

It's my surgeon. He tells me not to come in. Surgery will be on Friday and there's no point to me coming in early. When I'm almost there. Noice. So handy. But I know that's not his fault though. Apparently my doctor hadn't contacted him earlier or something. I mean, it's two and-a-half hours later when I get the call. Which would have been handy if I was at the hospital. Or dead in a ditch or something.

Anyways. Fortunately it's near the bus station and I can grab public transport for the return trip home. While I'm waiting I get a call from the admissions officer confirming Friday and giving me instructions for what to do, when to be there, etc.

Rather an irritating day on the whole. And in some ways, I'm now thinking, "Well, I hope that what they've said is the problem actually is the problem. I don't want to be dealing with this sort of thing overseas."

So I bought hot, metallic pink nailpolish while I was waiting to head back home. Somewhat more cheering than all the crap today's managed to provide.