Waiter!
A couple of weeks ago I received news, in short order, that I had finally obtained two things I had been waiting for for three years or so: an allotment of land I can tend; and official confirmation that I have ADHD. To get an allotment and an ADHD diagnosis, you have to put yourself on a waiting list and then bide your time, while various people ahead of you die. It's not really a joke! When I spoke to the doctor in charge of assessing me I said that I felt I had been waiting an eternity, and she told me that in some wards in the UK, the wait can take up to seven years. I said: "Oh man - we must be losing some of those people, along the way." She looked up: "Are you asking if they're killing themselves?" "Yes." "Yes." Getting both things in such a short space of time felt strangely serendipitous: here, after months of waiting - when waiting is officially one of the things I am least good at! - was a diagnosis that my mind was justified