Day 461 TGI almost F.

I went to the gym before work.  It’s proven to be enormously difficult to get back to my routine of 6 am gym before work every day; by comparison it was so easy to break the habit and curl up in bed for another hour.  My chest and abs are still sore from Julian’s workouts earlier this week; I doubled-over while monitoring a pelvic MRI case today because Nancy made me laugh and my abdomen guarded.  Cycling to work down the roadworks on Queens Park Circle this morning was through a choking haze of fresh bitumen fumes.  There were so many telephone and ultrasound interruptions to reporting MR this morning I began to sound like Beaker, from the Muppets: Meeeeeep!

My very own flat bread pencil case.
My very own flat bread pencil case.

Last night my flat bread pencil case arrived from Israel, the place not the person.  Now I need some pencils.

Hospitals are weird buildings.  There are always bits added on over time.  Sometimes I stop and wonder how or why things came to be.  Like the stairwell from University Ave into PMH up to the MRI; there’s a railing that wraps around onto a wall.  Am I liable to fall through the wall?  Is the wall not real?  The hand rail on the second step up is dirty and the paint worn through because everybody turns the corner, grabs on and starts to walk up the stairs.  When we arrived in Toronto walking up the stairs (all the radiology departments seem to be 2 floors above ground) made me short of breath.  Now I bound up them, except when I trip over my feet and I fall up them.


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