March 31st 2016
Today was not fun. I was forced out of bed at half past six in the morning, since Hannah’s dad was coming to pick me up at quarter past seven, and started the day off by absentmindedly stepping on an upturned plug; perhaps it was foreshadowing what was to be a decidedly rough day. With my foot throbbing painfully I donned ‘semi’ respectable attire and drudged down stairs, made some toast, smeared it with hummus and waited patiently for her father to show up.
He arrived on time and I had the ‘pleasure’ of sitting alone in a car with her dad, who I believe could tell that there was something going on between myself and Hannah (never a good start when it’s someone’s daughter). I had expected him to pick up Hannah and then drop us both off at the hospital but, no such luck, instead he dropped me off at her house where she was waiting with money he’d given her for a taxi; that’s fair I suppose, I mean, he does have a job to get to and all.
I just wish he didn’t stare at me all the time in the car. I think he knows.
When I arrived Hannah was shaking like a leaf, she looked white as a sheep- perhaps it was the idea of being awake during a procedure. A few words of encouragement later and, with me holding her bags, we eventually got into a taxi and were on our way. Hannah didn’t look particularly thrilled.
After sitting in the hospital waiting room for roughly three hours a doctor eventually came to take her to a room for the procedure. It turns out an OR wasn’t needed at all, I suspected as much. Hannah insisted that I come along; the doctor didn’t object.
It turns out that Hannah simply wanted me to talk to her through the procedure, she didn’t want to look at her hand, didn’t want to see the bone chip being removed, she didn’t want to see anything- understandable. I took the piss afterwards of course, a little gentle ribbing but, in all fairness to her, not everyone responds to going under the knife well and, with that being said.
She was very brave.
Good Job Han.