You know I blame Dr Jacobs for my depression.  Thinking on it, I was all ready to write this post after my angiogram - except I never got round to it.
Depression, see? Dr Jacobs, all five feet four of him was the trigger.

I must be getting better because I'm writing it now...

So there I was, lying on my hospital trolley waiting to get wheeled into the theatre for my angiogram. I was chatting to Dr Jacobs,  my cardiologist.  It was Dr Jacobs who had been my consultant in hospital.

Dr Jacobs it was who first argued that yes actually I had had a heart attack, and since he was the doctor I was staying in hospital.
Dr Jacobs it was who had insisted that I stay in bed only to later catch  me coming back from the outpatients  shop.
Dr Jacobs it was, who had negotiated a deal that I am allowed out of bed but was to stay on the third floor; only to meet me at the front door inhaling next to the smokers...I wasn't Dr Jacobs easiest patient - and that's saying something seeing's how most of his other ladies were elderly and demented.
But we were still on speaking terms. Think of him as a wee man who likes a challenge.

Whilst incarcerated in St James' I'd argued strongly that I had get out asap - because there is only me for the Cherub. When I lost that battle, I then fought a further battle not to be transferred to the Royal because as his father's last hospital, this does not have good associations for the Cherub.  Dr Jacobs then knew some of the past history.

So there we were stuck in the ante room to the theatre, since the procedure scheduled before me was running late. I was musing on how it was typical that he Doctor with a grudge was the one scheduled to put a large knitting needle into my right arm. He was giving me inside gossip on the other medical staff and Nicola Sturgeon's last visit to St James'. When he said

"So Macy, how long's it been? Have you really never been out with someone else since W died?"

Eh? Try running that one past me when it's not completely out of left field....

Did I look girlishly out from under my long dewy eye lashes, before completing my Jenifer Aniston impersonation by sighing and asking sweetly if he was offering?

Did I sit straight up and as him if he thought such a question was entirely in keeping with the General Medical Council's Ethical Guidelines?
Sadly not.

Or did I collapse into an incoherent lachrymose heap? "OhnoohgodnoI'notgoingthroughallthatagain {SOB} Ohgodohnoohjustthethoughtofevenevenbotheringofeventrying tofindsmalltalkofeven ..shit... Idnon'tknow..whatyougoingtodo? Icouldn't....{SOB}Ohgodsorry{SNIFF} OgodIdon'tknowwhereallthisiscomingfrom{NOSEBLOW}

Yeah.  That'll be Dr Jacobs dealing a knockout blow in the final round then....