Here's the Rub

Last night's entertainment rating at the Western scores a big zero. Their Acute Assessment Department does not have the nail-biting drama of "ER"or the downtrodden glamour of "Chicago Hope". Interminable waiting in grubby corridors under the acid light of fluorescent bulbs does little to comfort the spirit or dispel the despair that is born of under-resourcing. Care, on the other hand , is exemplary, when your turn - finally arrives. The next act was rewritten with Mac playing the leading role. Tomorrow would be another day.
This morning the medical staff were up to date with Mac's recent clinical history. An ultra sound scan was performed with great efficiency. It confirmed the prognosis. There is indeed a largish clot in the right leg. In all likelihood the fragments found in the lungs had originated there.
A stay in hospital for continuous monitoring didn't go beyond a stage whisper. Given the time warp we inhabit nowadays the consensus was to give us as much time together as possible. However the decision to put him on Warfarin is complicated by his cancer and the other drugs he is prescribed. The side effects are potentially dangerous and must be addressed on a daily basis. Now we are faced with the inevitable corollary. Every morning, including weekends, Macfarlane must attend the Western's Out-patient Department. This will continue for as long as "necessary ".
Though to accommodate this will require a further review of our lifestyle most promblems can be resolved. Warfarin's propensity to interact adversely with alcohol might well affect the Macfarlane war cry " Mair Drink " with regard to his own imbibing. He will continue to encourage others while satisfying himself with the odd medicinal dose of - yes - the old Ardbeg. Encore Slainte !