Thinking about it, I could count on the fingers of one hand the good accompaniment that I’ve had in past times (modern times are much more different). Surprisingly to some people, Nerina would be there in that lot. If only we had learnt to talk to each other and share our souls. Percy Penguin too, who I also dragged all across Europe and into its farthest corners without ever a single word of complaint.<\/p>\n
What I put it down to is the people whom I’ve had accompany me (or, more accurately, I’ve accompanied) previous to that. I never learned to socialise.<\/p>\n
There wasn’t anyone to accompany me at 04:15 to the bathroom though. I had to go by myself. I still think that it’s a really strange idea to give me a diuretic just before going to bed<\/p>\n
At 06:15 we had the morning tempest. This morning it was just temperature and a blood test. Not even testing the blood pressure. But – Some time after that I must have gone back to sleep because at 08:15 they awoke me for breakfast Not long after breakfast someone comes round to perform the diabetes test – on my jam-stained fingers. The reading on the little machine goes through the roof. Who is surprised? What’s the point of that?<\/p>\n When I finally got up to go to the bathroom to sort myself out, I noticed a huge bloodstain on the leg of my pyjamas. So much so that it had soaked through and ruined the sheet on which I’d been lying.<\/p>\n When I saw that, I thought that I’d better call for assistance because, after all, you never know …<\/p>\n A nursing auxiliary and I had a close inspection of my thigh. Strange and impossible as it might seem, last night’s injection of anti-coagulant went bang on, bulls-eye into a previous hole, opened it up and it bled slowly but bled like hell for quite some time. <\/p>\n Regardless of Emilie the cute consultant and all of the cute student nurses in here, I think that it’s time to be moving on<\/p>\n In the bathroom I washed my pyjama trousers while I was there and hung them up to dry. I’ve no idea what I’ll wear to bed tonight instead but I’ll figure something out<\/p>\n The rest of the morning was quiet. <\/p>\n After lunch there was plenty of time to transcribe the dictaphone notes. It was about 03:15 when I was awoken. It was about being asked to go on a British penetration raid into Germany as a 31st mission after I’d already done 30 and could officially retire. But I’d had a lot of problems reaching 30 because the crew that I’d been assigned – I’d had two crews assigned to me and had two mutinies on my way to making up my 30 so I thought that I was really lucky to be able to finish without having to put extra stress on them to go again one more time but by the same token was being afraid of being called “yellow” by everyone else who came to hear that I’d turned down a mission<\/p>\n In the papers that I’m reading at the moment there are several recorded cases of bomber crews mutinying and refusing to fly on operations, preferring arrest, court-martial and at least a humiliation or even a prison sentence to facing the flak and night-fighters over Germany Somewhere in the middle of all of this TOTGA put in an appearance. There was something going on with her children, particularly her daughter, who were implicated in what was happening during the night in some respect but everything evaporated when I reached for the dictaphone and the details completely slipped out of my mind. <\/p>\n How nice it was to see TOTGA and her daughter in the middle of the night too after all of this time, but fancy forgetting what was going on. That kind of thing is inexcusable. Neither TOTGA nor Castor nor Zero for that matter appear so often that I can afford to forget it when they do. <\/p>\n Much of the afternoon was spent in semi-consciousness and I would probably have gone to sleep had it not been for the racket as a torrential rainstorm outside fell against the bedroom window.<\/p>\n Mind you, I soon pulled myself together when Emilie appeared. <\/p>\n Basically, the plan is that if I’m capable of being sent home and left on my own, I can go home on Tuesday.<\/p>\n There will be a weekly blood test and I’ll go to the clinic across the road here the following day to discuss the results.<\/p>\n My kidney function is just 11% now, having fallen from a woeful but much more optimistic 25% in the past. 11% would usually guarantee me an automatic slot in the dialysis queue around here but they are surprised, if not impressed, about how well I seem to be coping and a more normal timescale for intervention will take place<\/p>\n So we are in the lap of the Gods now, apparently. Bringing the Creatine back down is straining the kidney function. Working on one aspect prejudices another. The story of my life I suppose.<\/p>\n So now we wait and see. <\/p>\n Surprised, if not impressed, would have been a good way to describe how I handled another issue tonight. Having seen a dietician the other day and discussed my dietary issues at great length which she took on board, tonight’s tea was chou-fleur au gratin<\/em> – cauliflower in cheese sauce.<\/p>\n Won’t I be glad to be home?<\/p>\n Having had my injection and been well and truly plastered so I don’t bleed all over the bed, That’s about it. I can start to count the days.<\/p>\n But I bet that something will come along and throw a spanner in the works. Otherwise on Tuesday afternoon I shall be dancing down the street going "Yippee! I’m free!"<\/strong><\/em>
\n"Where’s the diabetes test?"<\/strong><\/em>
\n"They’ll get the information from the blood test"<\/strong><\/em>
\nBang goes my early morning orange juice then.<\/p>\n
\n"Where’s the bread"<\/strong><\/em>
\nSomeone has to dash off to the big, main food trolley down the corridor.
\nThis place and the service has really gone to the dogs just recently<\/p>\n
\nThirty operational flights over Occupied Territory were considered to be a full tour and the rare numbers of bomber crew who survived a full tour could then retire from front-line flying and accept any vacant post commensurate with their rank and experience. But at the height of the slaughter in 1943 and even later there are plenty of instances of some crews who made it to 30 trips being asked to stay on for further missions in order to support a “squadron maximum effort” when there were not enough crews remaining to man the available aircraft. Some crews even completed 3 complete tours – 90 missions – over Occupied territory.<\/p>\n
\nAnd the little boy in the flat upstairs going "So what? I’m free and a half. But I’ll be four in October."<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n
