I don't want to go on about it too much, because it's old news now anyway, especially for friends, family and work colleagues, who must be sick of me harping on about it all the time. Kidney blah, can't drink blah, yeh it does get a bit tedious from time to time. I try not to go on about it too much because I know there are millions of people out there with worse problems, Gwyns poor nerves and Tom's balding come to mind, but for someone as self indulgent as I can sometimes be (but can't we all?), it's difficult not to.
Anyway, like I said, at last I have a date, September 20th to be exact, with the 2-4 weeks off after work the silver lining of this particular cloud. Of course there isn't really a cloud, it's a metaphor for saying that I'm taking a positive out of something which is predominantly a negative situation, I don't know why I'm explaining anyway, you're not an idiot.*
So on finding out my date I thought I'd share my good news (I know, but it does feel like good news) with a few friends. The replies I got back were unsurprisingly a mixed bag of kind words, witty retorts and questions about when I will be playing football next. The responses to the following text '20th of September, stick it in your diary, for Facey is going under the knife' are:
'Sex change?'
'Facelift?'
'Ah nice one mate'
'Good luck mate, I'll bring grapes and all that'
'I've always said Cook should've kept his place...'
'Finally the kid has a date! Curry night before?!?!?!?'
'How long before you can play football again'
'Is there a possibility of death?'
'Is it public viewing?'
If you want to play a game you can try matching the above quotes with the following names: Perry, Moe, Phil, Gwyn, Tom, Bondi, Brew, Kearney and Dowler. It's harder than you think.
* You could well be an idiot
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