Despite coronavirus, my operation is going ahead at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary – Susan Morrison

My diary next week is pretty chocka, what with some fairly heavy-duty surgery on Monday. Well, it’s a day out, isn’t it? It’s nearly a fortnight, what with my recovering from the old slice-and-dice. It’s in the Royal Infirmary, which makes a change. Nothing against the Western General, but I’ve been there twice. They should introduce a loyalty card. Three visits and you get a free hurl on an MRI.

Under normal circumstances, I’d be well chuffed with the Royal. Again, no offence Western, but the ERI has an M&S food branch and a coffee shop next to a WH Smith. That’s a whole afternoon of browsing right there. Where else can you pick up a prawn on oatmeal sarnie, a decent Americano and a copy of Chat magazine whilst wearing your jammies and towing an IV drip? Well, apart from Leith Kirkgate, obviously.

Sadly, wandering about the place is now curtailed, on account of the virus. To be fair, wandering about the hospital is rather frowned upon generally, I found that out a few years ago when my husband was whisked in. His heart was doing the Military Two Step, disco version. It’s called arrhythmia. Stress causes it, they say. The last time a doctor told him that, he looked at me in a very meaningful way.

We were in A&E most of the night. I loved it. It’s like Disneyland for nosey people, until they caught me lurking about and earwigging in. Told me to go and sit down. Spoilsports. Oh, ok, I suppose I shouldn’t have picked up that clipboard. No-one else was using it. They might consider a viewing gallery? Charge for tickets? Bit of income for the NHS there.

Our new friend Covid has put the tin hat on hospital dondering.

All-powerful and sneaky this menace may be, but it still hasn’t stopped the smokers at the door, clustered around in dressing gowns like bouncers guarding a bed factory.

Visiting has been kiboshed, too. This is going to be hard on the staff, because the last thing they need is me, with no-one to talk to. They got around that in the Western by sending me off on walks to get me fit following surgery. Managed to stop me before I got out the door heading in a Waitrose direction.

So I’ll be there on Monday morning, at the crack of dawn, because if there is one thing the NHS loves, it’s an early check-in. Like Ryanair. Hope they don’t weigh my luggage. There’s a lot of prawn sarnies and cheap magazines in there.

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