In the midst of the excitement of Friday's 12-week scan which confirmed that Vanessa and I are to get another go at trying to be proper parents, I forgot to tell you about a separate little incident earlier that day which also brought me to the verge of tears. Of laughter.
As well as the scan itself which was booked for 2.45pm in Leeds, Vanessa also had to go to our local doctor's surgery for a blood test first thing that morning. And she wasn't looking forward to it.
Vanessa has what can best be described as a "history" with needles. She's just not a big fan and, as a result, she tends to faint at even the thought of one being in the room. In the time I've known her, this has happened several times. Although, on one occasion and having got through a particular blood test, she then found herself waking up in the reception area where she'd taken herself to book a follow-up appointment.
I had thought that the "challenges" of child birth had toughened her up somewhat. I mean, seriously, by the end of the process, she had things sticking into her from all angles - and that was long before anything (i.e. Jamie) decided to pop out which, in itself, I imagine wasn't a breeze.
But back to Friday morning. She went over for her blood test with a definite air of apprehension but nothing more than that. I was still here at home because I had a physio appointment a little while afterwards at the same location so started a bit of work. And, indeed, when the front door opened about half an hour later, I had genuinely forgotten about her moment of destiny. However, the sheepish look on her face quickly served as a reminder.
"Oh dear," I said, trying to be sympathetic, but trying even harder not to laugh. "How did it go?"
"Hmmm," she replied. "It began well enough. The nurse asked me to lie down on the bed and roll my sleeve up whilst she went to get a form."
"Good, good," I replied keenly. "And then what happened."
"And then I woke up on the floor."
She's due to go back on the Friday after next.
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