Rain was forecast all day. Early this morning at 6:30 am In the dark and drizzle we nosed the Cadillac northeastwardly to the Queensway Carleton hospital in Bells Corners. The object was a bone density test.

A bone mineral density test or bone density test is an x-ray exam that determines the amount of calcium and other minerals in the bones. The greater the number, the better. The test is useful for determining if an individual has osteoporosis, and can tell doctors how advanced the condition is and what treatment to propose. Often, people do not realize that they have “brittle bones” until they have fallen and broken one. Bone density tests are fairly quick and painless.

Dawn had not yet broken.  The combination of gloominess and rain made driving difficult. On the Queensway, Monday morning traffic suddenly slowed.  Google reported an accident. We judiciously opted to take the first exit to bypass the rapidly incremental delay. Off the freeway and at a lower speed, vision continued to be impaired by the gloom and rain. Fortunately I had a vague but useful knowledge of what to expect in the area so travel wasn’t overwhelmingly perilous.  Gradually daylight began to form and the dusky shadows melted away, removing the unrecognizable obscurity.

We have often frequented the QC hospital. At the early hour this morning it was no trouble securing a handicap parking space nearby the main entrance. Soon we were seated in the (conveniently located) waiting room.

The waiting began. First however the mandatory clipboard with the form to be completed. A nursing attendant, wearing a mask, revolved again and again through the laboratory entrance, calling patients by their first names.

Not long afterwards the patient was called by name and ushered through the “DO NOT ENTER! STAFF ONLY” doorway with the curtained window. Soon he reappeared, mission complete. Easy as that. No change of clothes. Just lie there and get scanned, I guess. In any event, after paying the parking ticket and putting the receipt in the exit machine, we were off again.

On the way home we telephoned the caterer at the golf club. There was no answer. It was not an inviting day for golf. Perhaps at last the waiting was over and the club had closed for the season. We then confirmed that Neat Café in Burnstown was closed on Mondays. So instead we logged in at a local beanery in Carleton Place for pancakes, bacon, eggs and fruit cup. The service from the young, handsome girl was great but the meal was passable only.

Once back home it was snooze time.  I passed out for two hours. Later I expiated my guilt with a brief tricycle back and forth in the subterranean basement, interrupted briefly by a chat with Renato recently returned from Venice.

I love these sort of days, the mixture of obligation, nothingness and friendly acquaintance. I have chosen to complete today’s tour by the usual espresso and sliced apple. Meanwhile it is a matter of waiting. I contemplate hearing from people to whom I have addressed enquiry, including my niece who has evidently lately associated with a supplier of bespoke frames and singular renditions of photographs such as printing on canvas to provide a texture similar to a painting. I also await a telephone conference with a periodontist concerning an upcoming surgery. Waiting. I don’t know which, if either, is worse: awaiting the predictable; or, awaiting the unforeseen. One is frequently ruled by impatience; the other as often by ignorance. I am discovering it is better not to obsess about either. I choose instead to translate impatience to a study of possible alternative characterizations. It is so seldom that we fully appreciate what governs the conduct of others. Avoiding improper manipulation of the facts gives an improved chance of growth.