At play in the toyshop of the Lord

An inquiry as to the nature of the operation- long postponed- that I must undergo has thrown up yet more problems with the clerical system here at Saint Feasance's. My records are incomplete and, if I didn't know better, I would almost swear that a raving person has been amusing himself in the office.

The staff are eager to help, of course. But so many of the files appear to be missing that I may need to have certain of the preliminary tests again (and I'm not looking forward to renewing my brief acquaintance with the hydraulic catheter, I don't mind telling you!).

The briefest of glances was enough to tell that even the x-ray photographs were not all mine, this despite the fact that my name was clearly affixed to all of them. But I do not have that amount of shrapnel in my chest cavity, nor am I missing a chin.