A diary of one man's (Using the term man loosely) utter failure, depression, frustration, cock-ups, and impecuniousness, that had started in August 1947
Chapter 99:: A Pleasant Walk to the QMC for my blood-tests
The rain from the day before had relented, so off I set on my marathon hobble to the Queens Medical Centre, from my humble wreck of a two-up-two-down crumbling holed roofed hovel of...
The Anticoagulation Clinic, due to increasing attendees, and the Government cut-backs, decided to send me to the Blood Testing Centre to have my Warfarin levels tested in future.
Shame really, because at the Clinic, they used to take a tiny drop of blood out of a finger end, and do the test, and get the results in about ten minutes maximum. And they gave an appointment time to attend.
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