Stent Day finally arrived—also known as “the day I’d been dreading but pretending I wasn’t.” We got to the hospital bright and early like the eager little medical beavers we are only to discover we were dead last on the list. Not fifth. Not second-to-last. Last. So we sat there for hours, slowly turning into statues while the hospital clock mocked us.

Eventually, they summoned me in, and I was laid out on the table like a car in for an MOT. Dr Heart (the Cardiologist) and his medical team gathered around and started chatting about me as though I wasn’t, you know, right there.

“See how it’s not coming out at 90 degrees? We can’t do that now. It’s common for the scan to be wrong,” one of them said, while I lay there thinking, Fantastic. Nothing boosts confidence like hearing your arteries have weird angles.

Turns out one artery was basically saying, “Nope, not today,” and refused to take a stent at all. And the other artery, previously rumored to be 100% blocked like a stubborn toilet, was actually only at 40%. A light clog, really.

So the grand procedure ended with a friendly, “We’ll book you back here in a few weeks and decide what to do next.”

In other words: no stents, no answers, and absolutely no refund on the hours I spent waiting to be told my arteries had geometry issues. And a MAHOOSIVE bruise!