‘Who moved my cheese’ (for those people who do not make sense of their lives by reading a book on every hurdle they come across like I do) is a book which helps you understand how to deal with change in your work and life. Easy book, not life changing but good.
Yesterday I had a little op, nothing major but a bit uncomfortable. As I sat with my friend in the waiting room for 5 hours, not drinking (well apart from the huge Costa coffee he got me when the nurses weren’t looking) and eating for 8 hours. We talked about life and people but mostly ourselves which is always a popular topic with me and my inner circle of friends, due to the fact we never fail to be fascinated by how much chaos and trouble we can get ourselves in to. We mess up communication, relationships, goals and generally most things that life gives us. That’s not to say we are not successful, no people in my world are successful in work, relationships (mostly) and life in general. No sitting there in that waiting room watching some people who were going through much more than I was, made me appreciate the way in which we can acknowledge what we don’t do do well and let it teach us to change, hopefully grow and love our lives and each other.
By the miracle of technology, while we waited I communicated with both my sons from their temporary homes (via FaceBook) in China and New Zealand. AMAZING! or what! Chatting about what they are both doing, checking they are speaking to each other, their Dad, getting a update on their plans and their eating habits (always important I may be weak at parenting but I am still their mum!). It seemed so amazing to be chatting like this in a NHS waiting room. Especially under a sign that said turn off all mobiles (obviously not aimed at me!). The surgeon too was interested in their adventures, when I told him (him being a very young Australian called Sebastian, who promised to do my op perfect this time- don’t you just love the faith the young have). And I have to say even being bumped to last on the op list never made me think less of the NHS or the gang of nurses and surgical team that looked after me. They held my hand, told me I didn’t look 50! (for that alone they get a 10) and made sure I didn’t feel alone or afraid of the procedure. How lucky we are to have this in our country.
The aftercare was provided by a different group of special people, Lady A and her wonderful family. Who live in a beautiful chateau on the top of a hill in Durham. Arriving later than I had hoped after my little delayed hospital visit Lady A and her handsome young son Master B were at the door to greet me with a drink and hug, followed by a relax in their beautiful garden. Sun still shining, Master B entertained me with his future plans, being 12 he has lots. Added to this he is growing into a heart breaker but has not lost any of the mischief he was born with, nor his skill at getting me in trouble with his patents as they realise they will never let him come live with me as I encourage that mischief gene just a little too much for their liking.
Bringing me his chicken (its name I cant remember but it’s not ‘Pieces’ I know) so I could get acquainted with it. (Can you get acquainted with a chicken?) who knows but as he said “I will just move my chicken” I realised handling life is like that, we don’t have to blame/hope someone else for our life trials or for moving our cheese/chicken. No we may not be in control of most of it but we can move our own chickens especially with the help of incredible friends. So as I relax among the family, cats and chickens I realise how blessed I am and what a good day this has been. I also vowed to eat beef for tea at the pub tonight, don’t ask me why …
wherethehellisgillian 