Mind the Gap!

Well I couldn't think of a link to District Nurses, so Ive made a very tenuous reference to the District Line on London's Underground...

Blood Pressure today 119/73, so all good there for a change.

Over the past 2 weeks I have been lucky enough to have several visits from a succession of local district nurses to attend to my still weeping wound. Although it is slowly starting to heal it was indeed a major incision, and consequently quite deep and violent looking. If you can imagine John Hurt in the chest scene from "Alien", with perhaps a slightly less frightful ejection, and covered with a surgical dressing then you have an idea of the extent of the current situation. The total healing time for the wound is approximately 8-12 weeks, which seems an inordinately long time, but is quite normal for an ex diabetic. And so this is why I need my dressing changed every second day, which gets done at the hospital, but now at the weekend I get visited by a nurse, whose name I couldn't tell you. This is one of those awful social conventions, when you mishear or forget the name of the person or persons just introduced to you. Normally this is fine and you can get away with it,  but I have had the same nurse now visit me 7 times, and each time she addresses me personally, obviously. She even attempts to make small talk, which must be difficult for her, as I feel sure that her previous posting was assisting Dr Mengele in Poland. Her efficiency combined with her lack of sense of humour is quite Germanic.
I shall call her Helga.

She does a rather good impression of Kate Winslet in The Reader. Today's visit was typical, she arrived punctually at 9am (Its a Sunday!!!), and straight away opened her bag of tools and dressings, and mused to herself out loud, How should she dress the wound today? I quipped  that as it was Sunday, perhaps she could try a morning suit or Sunday Best?. She then frowned in a completely "That wasnt even remotely funny" sort of way, and then proceeded to change the dressing in a most teutonic manner, until all was left perfunctorily again. She said her Auf Wiedersehens and departed.
She drove off down the drive, in her little Waitemata District Health Board eblazoned VW (of course, what else?) and I was left to ponder, was she just curt with me alone, or did she talk to all her patients with such ruthless and humourless efficiency, and more importantly, what on earth was her name????


Enough , I seem to have run out of time, and will revel in the motoring saga later this week.
Stay Tuned, That's all folks!!