The waiting game is no fun

Putting on my shoes and socks takes far too long says, Wyn Drabble. Photo / File

The time is 7.30am. I hope to leave home for the working day at about 8am though a little after that would be acceptable.

I’m up to putting on my shoes and socks. For most people this is no biggie, but I’m on a waiting list for a hip replacement (right hip) and putting on socks and doing up shoelaces are two of my tell-tale failings. Some days are better than others and on many I need help.

Today, help has already gone. I’m on my own.

Relevant riddle.

Q: How long is a waiting list?

A: Exactly the same length as a piece of string.

At 7.34am I’ve mastered the left foot and it is both shod and socked. I’m good with the left and a casual observer might not even guess that I am on a waiting list.

But I have had to develop a number of modi operandi for the right foot then run through them and see which is working for me today. I’m now up to my third method and first attempts have revealed there is no point in pursuing the first two, which involve bending over or crouching down.

The time is 7.39am.

The third method involves sitting on a low chair or sofa – a dining chair is too tall – and extending the right foot straight out in front of me. No kinks or bends, not even slight ones. Ramrod straight with a perfect right angle between leg and foot.

Now begin the attempts at foot-sock contact. In my hands I have concertinaed the section from the heel to the top (section A) of the sock, leaving the heel to the toe (section B) ready for pedal occupation.

I start with a series of short sudden body stabs at the target, jerking the body forward for only a nanosecond at a time trying to hook the opening of the sock over the toes. No longer than a nanosecond per attempt at this stage. Slow and steady wins the race. There is pain.

After a number of stabs the sock is perched precariously on the toes.

Wyn Drabble. Photo / NZME

The time is 7.45am.

Now I enter the next stage, which involves more body jabs, each time trying to grab an edge of the sock so that, centimetre by centimetre, I can drag that specific area of sock closer to its target. I need to work evenly around the sock opening so that eventually it smoothly cocoons section B.

The time is 7.51am.

Sliding the sock over the heel is certainly the hardest part of the operation but getting the bottom section over the heel is a real winner because then I can grab the edge between thumb and forefinger and drag it up and over section A.

Alas, the combination of digital strength and sock wear and tear causes me to perforate the sock, which now sports a huge hole partway up section A.

I start the whole process over again with a new undamaged pair of socks.

The time is now 7.59am.

At 8.19am I am ready to depart for whatever the workday holds in store.

I do ask you to understand that this is only one small manifestation of inconvenience and discomfort. I thought that by focusing on just one aspect, I could paint the authorities a more graphic picture of what it is like to be on their waiting list. Is 49 minutes putting on shoes and socks constructive use of time?

I am also aware that there are people far worse off than this and I certainly want them to go before me in the queue.

The waiting game is no fun.