The Hobbit, or there and back again.

Less of a small hairyfooted character from the mind of JRR Tolkien but a fiendish method of attracting your attention...
On Thursday last, I set off as usual for my fortnightly renal checkup. Much like Bilbo Baggins in search of  Smaug's treasure, only less golden and more medical,(and with perhaps less dwarves).
I sped along many furlongs, passing though the bush on the Whangaparaoa road, Mirkwood-like in its' sinister impenetrability (thanks to Rodney District Council's Bush Management Plan), I espied a couple of spiders bound to my wipers by their webs. I defested them with a quick wash. Along the way I encountered several other cars and their occupants...
There were two trolls in a Silver Mondeo, a host of dwarves in a Toyota MPV, and of course Beorn in his Saab. The road progressed ever onwards, and I entered the misty mountainous terrain of Dairy Flat (are you sure? Ed) where fog was proving problematic for many travellers.

Traffic ground to a crawl, and as I hit the motorway queue at Tristram Road, it snaked along like a dragon's tail...
My phone rang, Ring Ring, it was my precious renal nurse, Janene, checking on my progress. 
I was a tad late because of the traffic and she couldn't yet see me in reception, in fact I was invisible to her eyes.
Eventually I arrived at the clinic, next to the Lake (Pupuke actually, and that does indeed fit most excellently).
I slowly crept along the passageway, invisible to the receptionist (because there was a wall in the way, of course), and entered the lair of the phlebotomist. The blood test went predictably, with much blood letting,  such was the ferocity of the old dragon, she was Smaug like in her pains to draw blood, full of hiss and venom.


I withdrew to the safety of the clinic waiting area, and was soon hailed by my precious, Janene nurse of this kingdom. She ushered me in....

The lair of the renal physician sparkled with many a silver utensil, the jewel encrusted blood pressure monitor adjacent to my left. Whilst draped around his neck dangled a valuable stethoscope with its worm like grip on his neck.
It remembered my mission to carefully pilfer a valuable token, a prescription of expensive renal medications, and not to get distracted by the worm.


We bantered courteously and I could feel the eye the Doctor searching for me as he spoke. He played a game of riddles, motioning slowly with his great hands as he rasped:
"When was your operation?"
Mmm a tricky one, My mind whirled as I tried to anticipate the correct answer....
"July last year" Oh great Dr Smaug.
"Indeed it is, which of course means for you...?
Yikes, I gave a little start, imagining myself to be burnt asunder, or at least given a particularly unpleasant medicine as a response.
"Since it has been a year since the transplant, you now only have to attend clinic on a monthly basis, with fortnightly blood tests at your local convenient Labtests. Great Eh?


Yes, I looked forward to soon fingering the orange ring of Labtests...

Indeed I was heartily pleased with myself and as a reward quickly grasped his proffered prescription and ran for the entrance....


After a swift journey, I was back in my homely hobbit hole, with just a few minor incursions from orcs, goblins and a pair of viscious wargs, in time for lunch.

I reflected on my journey, there and back again indeed. I had become so used to attending fortnightly, it had become a bit of a habit. 

It would make an interesting tale, though no one surely believe it, as I dont possess the skill of Johnathan Ronald Ruel.

Perhaps instead I should persuade Sir Peter Jackson to make a film of my exploits......