… agony after the session at the Dialysis Clinic this afternoon.
Once more, they could only fit one pin into the tube in my arm, once more it hurt like absolute Hades, and once more they had to come running to the machine every five minutes when it let out its little plaintive wail.
So what am I going to do? I don’t know. I have no idea what the alternatives are. The visiting nurse who is on duty as of tomorrow formerly worked in a Dialysis Clinic, but I suspect that I’ll be wasting my time asking him. Every time I ask him a question, he replies with a completely different answer.
But the agony is now going beyond a joke. It can’t really, surely, be as painful as this? No-one else seems to have the slightest problem
By the looks of things, everything seems to be a problem these days. Like going to bed, for example. Last night I couldn’t even be in bed for midnight, there was that much going on that needed doing and finishing.
So when I finally crawled into bed I didn’t have much time to sleep but, believe me, I was out like a light once I was in bed, and there I stayed until the alarm went off.
When I awoke, it was with a mighty crash – one of THOSE awakenings where the whole World seems to stop. Except of course that it was still spinning round and I had to wait, poised, on the side of my bed until it stopped spinning and I could stand up.
In the bathroom I had a wash, a shave and washed my undies. I need to do what I can to keep clean as much as I possibly can.
Back in here I had a listen to the dictaphone to find out where I’d been during the night. There was a quiet, shy girl who worked in an office somewhere. She used our vehicles every now and again for hospital runs. Sometimes I’d take her, and I’d quite enjoyed taking her too. I came to quite like her. I was hoping that she might quite like me as well but nothing ever came of it for a while which was quite sad. One day I had to take her to the hospital but for some reason we decided to walk there. She came out of her office, and she told me about some of the things that she’d been doing over the last couple of weeks as we set off. I knew the short-cut through the hills so we walked through the hills. She began to tell me a few more interesting things. We climbed over this steep bit of hill. There were two types like this that we climbed over. We found ourselves in a little valley. As we walked along this small valley we saw a sign that said “exhibition of the factory that made Churchill’s beds. I made some kind of witty remark about that and carried on walking. I put my hand down and found her hand, and began to hold it. She didn’t take her hand away, just left it there for me to hold and we walked off hand-in-hand like that
So i Got The Girl last night, and no-one from my family came along to spike my guns or put le baton dans le roue as they say around here. That’s not something that happens every day, is it? And a guided tour of the factory that made Churchill’s beds? That sounds exciting and is obviously a trip not to be missed. But that range of hills – it’s the one that we’ve walked – and skied – over on many occasions in the past and keeps on reoccurring. I’ve no idea where it is, although you would think that I would know by now.
There was also something else, that I haven’t dictated but that I have a very strong memory of it happening during the night, of going into a newspaper office and placing an advert to sell the van. I can even remember describing it in great detail. I’ve no idea though why there’s nothing like this on the dictaphone. It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed in the past. Nothing involving Castor, TOTGA or Zero, I hope.
The nurse came and told me some more about the demolition of the War Memorial. It seems that following a poll where the town was something like 90% against the mayor’s plan to remove it, the mayor is going to move it anyway. My nurse expressed herself in such extremely unparliamentary language that had someone from the General Medical Council heard her, she would have been struck off.
After she left, I made breakfast and carried on reading MY BOOK
Our author, Isaac Weld, is remarkably prescient. You have to remember that he is writing in the 1790s, and makes some predictions that are astonishingly accurate.
"at a future day, if the affairs of the United States go on as profperouHy as they have done, it will become the grand emporium of the weft, and rival in magnitude and fplendor the cities of the old world."
And talking of the removal of Congress from Philadelphia to Washington he predicts "a large majority, however, of the people in the United States is defirous that the removal of the feat of government mould take place and there is little doubt but it will take place at the appointed time. The difcontents indeed, which an oppolite meafure would give rife to in the fouth could not but be alarming and if they did not occafion a total feparation of the fouthern from the northern ftates, yet they would certainly materially deftroy that harmony which has hitherto exifted between them."
He also talks about "the prefident’s houfe, which is nearly completed on the outride, is two ftories high, and built of free ftone. The principal room in it is of an oval form", something that will ring a bell with many people today.
He saves most of his vitriol for Washington himself when he visits Washington’s house and the first things that he sees are the "SLAVE" (his capitals, not mine) cabins.
He says, on the subject of Washington’s slaves, "Happy would it have been, if the man who flood forth the champion of a nation contending for its freedom, and whofe declaration to the whole world was, ” That all men were created equal, and that they were endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, amongft the firft of which were life, liberty, and the purfuit of happinefs;” happy would it have been, if this man could have been the firft to wave all interelted views, to liberate his own flaves, and thus convince the people he had fought for, that it was their duty, when they had eftablifhed their own independence, to give freedom to thofe whom they had themfelves held in bondage !"
No more needs to be said.
Back in here I had things to do, such as my Welsh homework, and then I carried on with editing the radio programme notes. However the Welsh homework had taken me much longer than it ought to have done so there wasn’t much time for the radio
My cleaner turned up bang on time and fitted my anaesthetic patches and then helped me tidy up the mess from yesterday. We kept all of the packaging because it will all come in useful in the future
The taxi was early because we had to go to pick up someone else – this sharing of taxis now is proving to be inconvenient but who am I to complain?
And then we had the pantomime of fitting the plug in my arm. And how painful was that? Nothing that they tried to do seemed to make any difference until after about an hour, they finally found a position in which the machine was comfortable. Then they taped the plug and pipes to my arm with so much tape that it was ridiculous
Even before I’d arrived, I’d made up my mind to speak to the doctor about the situation.
There’s a team of four doctors whom I’ve identified so far and as I have said before … "and on many occasions too" – ed … there’s one of them who gives the impression that he really doesn’t want to be there. So guess who was on duty today.
He is really disinterested in his job and has no interpersonal skills at all. So I told him about the situation and his immediate response was to tell the nurse to bring me a Doliprane – a notion that I immediately shot down.
No, a painkiller is no good for me. I want the situation resolved. In the end he agreed to arrange a scan of my implant to see what the problem might be. “But it won’t be today”.
While we’re on the subject of scans … "well, one of us is" – ed … I asked him what was the plan about the scan that I’d had the other day.
“Nothing” was the answer. “We’ll see how it goes because things like this usually disappear after a couple of weeks or months”.
“Seeing as I’ve been suffering like this for over a year” I said, “I promise you it won’t go away ‘in a couple of weeks’ ”
That rather deflated his ego and he beat a hasty retreat.
They eventually unplugged me, hours later than it ought to have been and the poor taxi driver had to wait quite a while.
Luckily it was one of the friendly ones and we had a good chat all the way back to Granville.
My cleaner was waiting and watched as I climbed all the stairs on my own up to my room
Tea tonight was a stuffed pepper with plenty of stuffing left over for a curry on Wednesday. Tomorrow I’ll use the last of the refried beans.
But wasn’t it a lovely change to go to the freezer and open the drawers without a fight? I hope that the drawers last without breaking again until I can move downstairs and have a decent fridge-freezer.
But right now I’m off to bed, not before time too. It’s my Welsh class tomorrow and I want to be on top form.
But one of the nurses told me about a footballer who was admitted to the emergency department on Saturday with a dislocated knee.
He screamed “Blue Murder” when the physiotherapist went to put it back in place.
“"Don’t be a baby" urged the nurse. "There’s a woman in Maternity who has just given birth to triplets and she’s made far less noise than that"
"You go and try to put them back in" said the footballer "and see what noise she makes then!"