Reichstag

Up early to meet with my surgeon for a check up. A lovely man who came to my rescue last September to try and rectify the mess his colleague had made in my previous four ops.
We had a long conversation about his now ex colleague and he agreed the very first op was handled wrong and I shouldn’t have gone through the pain and horrendous scarring that resulted. At that point he should have stopped but in arrogance or stupidity carried on. Having worked with many surgeons surgical arrogance is not uncommon and it’s ironic that having done all the research prior to embarking on my treatment I ended up with the rogue.
So an emotional conversation, pictures taken. Ultrasound done and whereas all the diseased tissue has gone, the trauma response has left untold damage.
There is no more he can do. Which makes me sad. I wanted to be the poster girl for this surgery and bring it to the UK, instead I’m the warning of what can go wrong.
:(

So without a miracle wand being waved, I left rather downhearted and tried to pull myself together but head wasn’t really in the game.
The Rittersport shop helped and then the Deutschemuseum which was a 4Dexperience of German history, very interesting but lacked a proper wow.
However, having bought tickets to go to see the Reichstag, the view from the terrace on top, made life feel better. Stupidly picked the day when they were cleaning Norman Fowler’s some ( ooer) but the panorama was made all the better with the stormy clouds above.
My first extra utilised the puddles from last night. Spotted the reflection of the Brandenberg Gate for a less traditional tourist shot.
Wandered down Unter den Linden past all the spectacular buildings to Hackescher markt for dinner which was a delicious lamb kebab. Far healthier than those back home.
Managed to consume a Rittersport in self pity
Ho hum.

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