Just Another Day

I took Alfie out a good deal later than I usually do. I didn't take him out at all yesterday, because Carol was asleep and I know the amount of noise he can make, barking, generally making noise, it would have woken her up. By the time I got back from church, at around 11.20, it was raining slightly and I didn't fancy either of us getting wet. I don't think it would have bothered Alfie, although he doesn't really like getting wet.

It's good deal cooler this morning. Not raining, but it's overcast. Thank goodness. The recent heat was far too much. They say, on BBC television weather, that it's likely to get hot again as the week goes on.

I had to take a document to Ashfield Medical Centre. When Carol was visited in hospital by one of the diabetic team, she was given a sheet of paper to take to the doctor's surgery which had on it the list of items which would be needed in order to take the blood sugar test each day, including the lancets which prick your finger to provide a blood sample to then get the monitor to give the blood sugar levels. One of the doctors needs to allow all the items to be prescribed and then repeated. It means that we don't have to pay for them, along with all the other medication that Carol has on repeat.

From there I went into the centre of Milton Keynes to buy some clothes in Marks and Spencer. I had some vouchers and bought underwear, socks and a polo shirt. A good selection to choose from and stocks up my wardrobe as some of my clothes are wearing out. I have to say that Marks and Spencer's men's clothes are generally good quality, and although probably a bit more expensive that some other shops I could mention they do last a good deal longer, probably because of the quality of the material used to make them and the finish is very good. I have some polo shirts which must be well over ten years old and they're wearing surprisingly well and have been through the washing machine countless times and they still look fairly good. You certainly get what you pay for.

I then drove to Sainsbury's. I think I mention Sainsbury's a considerable amount of times in my blog posts. It's quite close to where we live. In fact, we're quite spilt for choice, with Asda, Waitrose, Lidl, Aldi, Tesco and Sainsbury's within quite close proximity. On arrival in their carpark I couldn't avoid the loud noise of a child, screaming for blue murder, going up on the moving walk-way and into the store itself, then going round the various aisles, I couldn't this girl dreaming her head off and the mother doing her best to not let the child get her own way. A good clip round the ear might have helped. I was glad when I had finished my shopping and was on my way out of the store because this child was certainly making so much noise and having such a temper tantrum because she couldn't get her own way that the only way to avoid the noise and commotion was to leave for home.

Windy and Wet

Saturday. Most of the day it's been sunny, but it's actually a good deal cooler. We've had wind and as I write this blog post, it's raining. Certainly it's a good deal more bearable than it has been for the past couple of weeks. We've gone from scorching hot to wind and rain in a mere few hours. It just goes to show how weather changes so rapidly in such a short space of time in England. Mind you, it must be frustrating for some people, who've just started their summer holidays. You've waited months and months, booked your holiday, it's been hot and sunny for weeks on end, you haven't been able to enjoy it because your either at work, school or college, then, no sooner have you broken up for the summer, than the weather changes completely, rain, wind, cold and miserable. Annoying, to say the least.

Around 10.15 the telephone rings. I think, O.K., that will be our landlord. I rush to the telephone. We don't get that many telephone calls, not on the landline telephone. It's a woman's voice, not the landlord, or this wife. I don't recognise the voice. It's the nurse who's coming to give Carol the antibiotics. She's outside the house, in her car. She asks, have we got a dog? I say, yes, she says, can the dog be put in another room? I say yes. I manage to get Alfie into the kitchen and shut the door so he can't get into the sitting room.  I open the front door and look out and see a car drawn up across the entrance to our drive. I see there is someone inside, sitting in the driver's seat. She waves at me. It's the nurse. She gets out of the car and comes towards the house and comes inside. She introduces herself and then says hello to Carol and me. She sits on my armchair and I sit on the footstool near the bookcase. Carol is on the sofa. She has to do an assessment. She has to ask no end of questions before she can proceed with the antibiotics. I have to find a coat hanger. I have no idea what it's for, so I go upstairs to our bedroom and find a wire one in the wardrobe and come back downstairs to the sitting room. The nurse goes through the bags of medication and the boxes of things that we were given when we left Ward 22.

Alfie doesn't much like being shut in the kitchen. He scratches on the door between the sitting room and the kitchen. The nurse says she is scared of dogs, that's why she had to make sure our dog, poor little Alfie, was out of the way, in another room, with the door shut. I can understand not everyone likes dogs. They don't have to like them. I think she must have had a nasty experience with a dog or dogs, sometime in her past. Perhaps she was bitten. I don't know and I don't ask. I can imagine you might encounter plenty of dogs when you are doing her sort of job, going to people's homes. Rather like I used to do when I worked for Guardian as a home carer. Infact, the manager of the operation used to do similar assessments of the 'end-users' or 'clients' as we called them, to make sure they were getting the best care packages that the agency could give, no doubt more likely, for the budget they were given.

The nurse used the coat hanger for a drip, putting a plastic bottle of saline solution on it and then hung from the light shade which is conveniently above where Carol was sitting, connected to a clear plastic tube that is then connected to the P.I.C.C. line in Carol's arm. It takes about 15 minutes to run. This has to be done before the antibiotics can be injected using a hypodermic. Once this is done, everything is packed up. We were given a yellow 'sharps' bucket which all sharp objects, such a s used hypodermic needles are placed after use. The whole visit lasted around 45-50 minutes. All very efficient and organised. I have to go upstairs and bring down one of the drawers from the unit Carol bought for all her stoma equipment which is in the bathroom, between the toilet and the sink. Downstairs the nurse puts much of the stuff she will be using when she visits in it and then it's put on the red IKEA table we have between the sofa and my armchair. The nurse fills in all the paperwork which goes with the visit, much like I had to do when I'd finished a 'call' when I worked for Guardian Homecare. The visit is then over and the nurse leaves.

Sunday. It's raining. Thank goodness it's not so hot. Considerably cooler. The rain will revive the grass around here. It was the first thing Carol commented on when we left the hospital on Friday evening. All along the sides of the grid roads around Milton Keynes the grass has become just brown and shrivelled, dried up by the sun. How quickly will it return to green? Probably not long. Alfie is expecting to be taken for a walk, but at 7 o'clock in the morning Carol is fast asleep upstairs and I don't want him making a noise as he's likely to if I even hint at getting ready to go out for a walk. It will just wake her up. We can go out later, when I get back from church.

When I get back from Shenley Christian Fellowship at around 11.15, Carol is still waiting for the nurse to come for the daily visit and give her the antibiotics. Alfie is already shut in the kitchen. He obviously doesn't like it. He scratches on the door. The nurse (I'm not sure she isn't a  District Nurse. She obviously does the job of one, or perhaps she's called a Community Nurse. It's not the same one who came yesterday morning. They are scheduled to come between 11.30 and 1.00 p.m., or thereabouts. She's here not as long as yesterday, basically because she hasn't got to do the assessment. It's over within about 30 minutes.

Carol Discharged From Hospital . . . At Last!

Yet another hot and uncomfortable day. The weather is becoming somewhat monotonous, to say the least.

I've been attempting to sort out the tenancy agreement we have with our landlord to give to the Housing Benefit department at Milton Keynes Council. I have sent them an email, as I thought I'd attempt another tactic. Several years ago we had problems with the gas boiler in this house. We attempted to ring the landlord, but we couldn't get through. We then went through the council, because it would be obvious that they would have his details because of paying Council Tax and one thing and another. It worked and we eventually got the boiler replaced. So I thought of using this again and wrote the email and sent it. I even rang and got through quite quickly, considering how long it can take. I was then told, after explaining all about how they'd contacted the man over the boiler I was told, rather annoyingly, that they couldn't do that, 'because of data protection.' So, this  is because of the confounded new E.U. legislation called the General Data Protection Regulations 2018, which came into force in May. We're back were we started. I have left a message on our landlord's voicemail, but no response seems to be forthcoming. Where is the man? Does he not realise that this is important? It's not just us that need the paperwork to finish the Housing Benefit claim. He won't get his rent paid without it etc etc etc.

We spent a long day on the ward. We knew at some point Carol would eventually be discharged, but when, we couldn't say.

At 11.40 Carol had an appointment in the Macmillan Unit with Doctor Saka, the Lead Cancer consultant. Carol was taken down in a wheelchair by a porter. It's not far from Ward 22, but she clearly couldn't walk that far so it was best to be taken in a wheelchair. We have to wait a long time in the waiting area. They never seem to run to time in these units. Perhaps they don't give enough time for consultations, there's a lot to discuss. Eventually Carol's name is called and we go into the office of Dr Saka. It's the main man, not one of his minions. He asks Carol questions, about why she has been in hospital for four weeks. He came to Ward 1 when she was there, but didn't know she was on Ward 22. It seems as if there's a communication problem. Why wasn't he informed? This seems to be a problem with some N.H.S. departments, a lack of joined-up care you might say. He spends ages looking at the scanned imaged that came from the various scans Carol has had over the past few weeks and months, the M.R.I. and C.T. scans. We sit in silence. It's quite scary. We wait with baited breath. We're here to hopefully find out what the plan is for Carol's care. We are told that the liver and bowel cancer has been shrunk considerably by the chemotherapy, but they've found some cancer in her bones. It's a bit of a blow. How will all this be treated? He tells us that he will make a report and contact the cancer unit at the Churchill Hospital in Oxford and they will make some sort of decision. We feel we're no further forward. We haven't had the answers we need. The heat and the fact Carol's been ill and in hospital for near enough five weeks is really telling. We leave the consolation room and go back to the reception desk to make an appointment for four weeks hence and then the porter comes and Carol goes back to Ward 22.

Carol has quite a few visits from people different from N.H.S. departments at the hospital, the nurse about the stoma; someone from ophthalmology. The lady came with various lenses and glasses for Carol to try to help make reading easier for her because she's having problems with her eyes. A rather weird sort of pair of glasses with double lenses which had a knurled device on their frame which helps them focus a sort of domed glass magnifying glass that you move across a page of text, another which was a   squarish magnifying glass on a handle. Carol didn't get on with the strange glasses, which made me think of the sort of specs that someone who does close work, like a clock-maker might use. Or the character of Professor Brainstawn from the books I was read when I was at school and later read myself. He had around five pairs of glasses which were perched on the top of his head and he was always loosing.  written by the author Norman Hunter and Illustrated by W. Heath Robinson. In the end Carol chose the magnifying glass with the handle because she found the strange glasses to complicated. She will have an eye test so she can have proper prescription glasses. Then another lady arrived, from the diabetes team. She bought a bloodsugar testing monitor so that Carol can do the necessary blood tests to keep on top of her levels. We were looking into buying a new one, so, with this model, together with the lancets which go in a separate gadget to prick her finger, that's a definite saving. She also gave us a list to take to our doctor so all these bits and pieces which need replacing can be re-ordered on prescription because at the moment we have to pay for all these things. Hopefully, Lloyd's in Sainsbury's will be supplying all of this when the time comes for a repeat prescription.

Around 2.30 Carol eventually went to have the P.I.C.C. line put in. A nurse came to take her down, walking there, not in a wheelchair with a porter. It's not far to the scanning department. I had to wait in the waiting area, as you'd expect. The whole procedure took around an hour. After which we returned to the ward.

Carol had ordered supper (do they call it supper, dinner or tea in hospital? Whatever it's called, her evening meal.) It came around 5 o'clock. I could make myself a meal of some sort when I got home, go and get fish and chips or cook one of the individual meals I'd bought in Morrisons's a couple of days ago. She had a baked potato and baked beans. It would mean that she wouldn't want a meal when we eventually got home.

Someone arrived from the pharmacy department with all the medications that Carol would need when she got home. A couple of large carrier bags full of stuff together with all the bits and pieces needed by the community nurse who would be coming each day to give Carol the antibiotics. That is what P.I.C.C. line is for.

The nurse in charge had done the relevant paperwork, the discharge stuff, the official paperwork which gave a description in clear language of why carol had been in hospital, together with a couple of pages of all the medication she as being sent home with. We had to go through it all and check it off. All I can say is, thank goodness for the N.H.S. and the fact that we don't have to pay for any of this as it would cost us a considerable amount of money.

Nearly 6 o'clock and by this time I'd taken one load of things out to the car. Several carrier bags which would make the final exit a good deal easier. One of the nurse came and pushed Carol in the wheelchair out down in the lift and out through the double doors where the ambulances pick up and drop of patents. This is where we got on the ambulance which took Carol and I to the Churchill Hospital in Oxford all those months ago, before she had her chemotherapy, and was so uncomfortable, basically because the driver drove so fast and it was just plain unpleasant.

The nurse got Carol as far as she could in the wheelchair. The road surface going the rest of the way to the carpark is far too uneven for a wheelchair, so I went to fetch the car and drove it back to the ambulance entrance so that Carol could get in and the rest of the luggage put in the boot of the car. So, she was at last discharged and we drove home. Alfie was excited to greet Carol when we got in the house, having unloaded the car. I think she was glad to be able to sleep in her bed for the night. By the time we got home it was gone 7 o'clock but we knew that it was likely to take several hours for Carol's discharge to be completed.

Thunder In The Night

It was exceptionally hot yesterday (Thursday) as I said in my last blog post. I found it really difficult to sleep last night and came downstairs to read. I've found something to watch through the BBC's iPlayer, the original television version of 'House of Cards,' which was something I did a lot of Supporting work on in the 1990's. So I shall have to watch and see if I can remember what I did in it. I was a journalist with a group of other S.A's (Supporting Artistes) in quite a few scenes filmed over the course of several weeks all around London. It stars Ian Richardson who plays Francis Urquhart. Actually, his name was something of a problem, because it had to be pronounced 'Urcart,' with the end sort of silent. If that makes sense. Nobody spoke in our group, well, you don't when you do Walk-On work. You're not employed to speak and you have no lines, although we did have to make crowd noises, sort of 'rhubarb, rhubarb' noises, indistinct crowds sounds, no distinct lines as you would if you were an actor playing a part.

Then I heard thunder. Hopefully things would be relieved by rain. Another loud clap and it did rain, but not as torrential as I would have hoped. It didn't last longer, no more than a minute or two. I just hope we get more rain today (Friday.) First thing this morning it's been overcast, not as if it was going to rain, but just cool enough to not be overbearingly hot and pleasant enough to take Alfie for his by now obligatory early-morning walk around Eaglestone Park.

As I've explained in an earlier blog post, we're currently applying to Milton Keynes Council for Housing Benefit. It would be a smooth process if only I could contact our landlord as they need to have proof of how much rent we pay and they require either a tenancy agreement or a letter from our him. I have tried to find our copy, but it hasn't come to light, unfortunately. If I found it it would be a simple matter of taking it to the Council offices and they would no doubt make a photocopy. I have been attempting to contact the landlord via telephone but all I get is a recorded voice and last night I left a message for him to contact me, but as yet no response. I do not know where he and his wife are, possibly some family matter, but at the moment I'm not bothered where he is or why. We need to get this matter resolved as quickly as possible. I don't think he realises how important it is to get this sorted and quickly. I have emailed the Benefits department at the Council explaining all this. If you have read my earlier posts on here you may have read about the problem we had with our gas boiler a couple of years ago. We attempted to contact our landlord but the telephone number he gave us was 'unavailable.' We went through the Council, who had details recorded for Council Tax purposes and managed to contact him via mail (or it may have been telephone, it doesn't matter. It worked, and the boiler was eventually replaced.) I am hoping that they may be able to contact him this way again in order to get the tenancy agreement sent on so the Housing Benefit claim can be completed.

It's Far Too Hot!

Thursday. I've taken Alfie for another of his early-morning walks across Eaglestone Park. I am particular about picking up any dog mess. I know it's not something to talk about or write on here, but we are supposed to dispose of it in the red dog-waste bins dotted around the park. It seems a lot of people who also have dogs don't do the same, I can see they don't. It's the same with litter in general. Empty beer and fizzy drinks cans, all around the benches where no doubt youths congregate. I'm also shocked to see piles of Red Bull cans in the verges along the Redway within the hospital campus as I walk in to see Carol on Ward 22. Quite often I come across groups of staff standing on the Redway, smoking, sitting on the grass, drinking Cokes or Red Bull. A litter of fag ends. I know I've discussed this in other blog posts, but it really isn't pleasant to see this rubbish. They have a 'No Smoking' policy within Milton Keynes University Hospital, but they should make allowances for smokers. Even patients. Where the ambulances come in near the Macmillan unit, I see a young man who must be a patient, from oncology, with his drip on the wheeled stand, along with the pump mechanism, a similar contraption which Carol had when she had her chemotherapy. Anyway, he was outside smoking. I don't think if I had to have chemotherapy I would smoke. I have never smoked. I was told, when I had my heart attack, that had I smoked, I would have had a heart attack five years earlier than I did. People do have a choice, to smoke or not, but if it's bad for your health and you are warned of the consequences, why continue with it? Or make an effort to give it up. I think it's also the mess that is left, the cigarette-ends, ash and also the smell that cigarettes make is really unpleasant and must affect your taste.

One of the female doctors visited Carol on the ward this morning. Usually there are at least 6 of them  who do the ward rounds at around 10.15-10.30, so it was odd that she came on her own. She told Carol that the P.I.C.C. line should be done tomorrow afternoon. Does that mean they've found cover for the lady who usually does this, but who is currently on holiday? I presume so. I would imagine that she would be back at work on Monday, because it doesn't make sense having a holiday and coming straight back to work on a Friday, or is that just my thinking on the matter? Perhaps she hasn't gone away for a week, just a few day's leave and she came back on a Friday after all. Anyway, let's hope that all goes well and Carol can come home. She's really chomping at the bit, particularly as severe other patients on the ward have already gone home and they haven't been there as long as Carol.

I was walking back along the Redway within the hospital grounds, when two women were walking towards me. Then, as they got closer, one took out something from her bag and just tossed it onto the grass. I was really annoyed. I looked when I got closer to where she dropped her litter. It was an empty cigarette packet and used box of matches.  On second thoughts I wish I'd had the courage to tell her that she was littering and she shouldn't throw her rubbish away on the roadside, but I didn't. Just a disgusting act. People just don't care. There's enough litter already so I imagine people think, if others do it, I can too, but that doesn't make it right.

I came out of Ward 22 just before 2 o'clock this afternoon, and the heat hit me. It was baking, almost like opening an oven door. I like it when it's sunny and bright, but at the moment the weather is far too hot. We are desperate for some rain to cool things down. I don't think people are used to such heat in England. None of our houses are designed for this sort of temperature, no house has air conditioning. Electric fans alone don't really cool the house, they merely push the hot air around.

No House Inspection

I'm somewhat annoyed. I got a note through the door this morning (Wednesday), from our landlord, to say he won't be visiting and can I ring him tonight to reschedule? Having spent the last few days cleaning the place, it's a bit of a nuisance, to say the least. It does mean that I can be with Carol this morning when the doctors do their ward round, because I wouldn't have been there if the house inspection had gone ahead for 11 o'clock this morning. Hopefully Carol will be discharged sometime today, so at least she will see a spotless house, or as near as possible. Never mind, at least it will be ready for a landlord visit next week. I don't know when the note was put through the letterbox. I have been awake since at least 5 a.m., been out with Alfie for a walk, but I never heard the letterbox rattle, as you would expect if something was pushed through.

I was washing up at the kitchen sink when I saw a dustcart drive past. I had put three bags of rubbish out, two black bags and a pink one with recycled stuff in it. Why didn't they stop to pick up our bags? It's 8.35 as I write this, and those bags are still were I left them earlier this morning. Why don't the dustmen take them instead of driving past? I know they take the recycled bags separately, but, frankly it doesn't make sense to just drive past. I bet these bags will still be here when I get back home later this afternoon. It really is an odd way to collect rubbish. You are supposed to put it out well before 7a.m. on a Wednesday, but quite often it's still there at 2 p.m.  I heard a report on BBC television news the other day, which said that some recycled material isn't recycled and goes to landfill. Not very good to hear that, when I go to so much trouble to put stuff in the correct pink bag. Incidentally, why are Milton Keynes Council replacing the pink bags with grey bags? Seems a bit pointless to me. What's wrong with pink? As it is, they are very flimsy and easily torn and quite difficult to open.

Later. The continuing saga of the carpark barrier. I don't know whether to laugh or cry over this. I know I've given time and energy to the car parking arrangements at Milton Keynes University Hospital in quite a few of these blog posts. Why on earth they don't just remove the stupid things, because they seem to cause much stress and angst. Either you can't get in, because the barrier won't raise, or the tickets don't come out of the machine when you enter, or the barrier won't raise to let you out. It's more than a little bit annoying. This morning the barrier was raised, so you couldn't take a ticket when you pressed the button. Which meant, when I came to leave this afternoon, I had no ticket, so when I drove out, with the barrier down, I had to press the 'help' button to get a security person to let me out. It can be tricky to do this, because you have to stop the car near enough to the machine so you can stretch out your arm to press the button. Then a disembodied voice asked 'which car park?' to which I had to think, and then said 'near Cardiology,' at which the barrier was raised. I think they must be loosing money from this pandemonium. The barriers seem to spend more time inoperative and operative and people wouldn't be paying to park. Why not just remove all these machines and return to free parking?

On the ward things haven't changed much. No new patients. I arrive in plenty of time for the doctors' ward rounds. It amuses us that when they arrive, around half a dozen of them, with one pushing the computer trolley thing which has all the patients notes in it, they bundle into the 12 X 12 space each patient and their bed contains and draw the curtains around them. How many doctors can you fit in the space? It can be quite intimidating if you are the patient, as I have been myself, with so many people crowding in, sometimes with students, some at the back of the group, someone making notes. What are they all for? The, should I say 'lead doctor', who does all the talking has this morning come in and SITS ON THE BED! Outrageous! I was told you must NEVER, as a visitor, SIT ON THE BED! When I was on one ward a couple of years ago, there was a woman, a volunteer, who was so rude to Carol, she wouldn't let Carol read my notes, which were on a clipboard in a holder at the foot of the bed (now all notes are on the new computerised system eCare or something.) This harridan came in to work in Ward 1 when Carol was first admitted nearly five weeks ago. I think she took her authority too far and was just plain unpleasant. Anyway, this female doctor tells Carol this morning that they have found an antibiotic which will work to eradicate the infection in her septum. She can be given this new antibiotic via a P.I.C.C. line, which has to be inserted (as the old one was, which was removed a week or so ago.) Carol would need to come to the hospital on a daily basis to have the antibiotics administered through the P.I.C.C. line, for two weeks, then the medication can be taken in tablet-form for a further six weeks. We later learn that a community nurse (I think that's the title.) would visit Carol at home and administer the antibiotics, which would cut the risk of further infection, which might happen if she was to visit the hospital. Later on, another doctor appears and says that the lady who fits the P.I.C.C. line is currently on holiday and there is no-one else able to do the job. Which seems amazing to me. Why on earth doesn't the hospital have someone who can cover for this lady whilst she is on holiday? So, it would seem that Carol is likely to be in hospital for another few days, intact, most likely until Monday when I image the P.I.C.C. line-lady returns from holiday.

This evening I have been attempting to contact our landlord via telephone. Each time I attempt this operation, I just get a recorded message and to 'leave a message.' I try on three separate occasions. I don't want to record a message. I just want to speak to the man. I don't want either him or his wife ringing once I've gone to bed or to ring when I'm out. I want to speak to a live person. So much easier and less annoying.

Some time later I get a telephone call. At first I think it might be the landlord. But it's not. It's a woman doing a survey. I agree to do it. It's on political things and turns out to be on my views on Brexit and the so-called 'Chequers Agreement' on a 'soft' Brexit deal. What are my thoughts? Well, I'm not going to tell you on here. I did ask, at the end of the interview, what the information would be used for, but she wouldn't say. Probably for a newspaper of one of the television channels, BBC News, ITN or Channel four or even Sky News.

More House Cleaning

It was too hot yesterday to even think of cleaning the house. I took a load of cardboard and other rubbish to the tidy-tip, as mentioned in the last post. They said on the BBC Evening News that it was the hottest day so far this summer. I can well believe it. I was getting rather concerned when I started to get a tightness in my chest. A bit like angina. I used my G.T.N. spray and it did relieve it, but on the news they did say there was a health warning, to keep out of the sun and to not stay out in it where at all possible. The N.H.S. has issued a level 3 heat health warning to people with chronic long term health issues, (which I imagine would include myself, with a heart condition) and particularly keep out of the sun where necessary during the hottest part of the day, which would be between 11a.m and 3 p.m. The hottest place yesterday was Santon Downham, in Suffolk, with a recorded temperature of 33.3C. I know more or less where that is. It's not far from the road towards Norwich and Brandon, which was the base for some television work I did years ago and around where ''Allo,'Allo" was filmed in the 1980's.

Later. I went to Sainsbury's early. Same sort of shopping as usual, something for tonight's meal. Just salad bits as I don't fancy anything hot when the weather is so warm.

I drove into the hospital campus and waited at the entrance to the carpark, but the woman in the car in front was having problems with the barrier; it didn't want to rise. Stubborn refusal methinks. There was a car in the road in front of me. I couldn't work out what the driver was intending to do. A van arrived and a man got out. I think he was a security man, or at least a workman who was going to fix the barrier. Well, to at least get it to rise and let us through so we could park. No, the confounded things was steadfastly refusing. Just not playing ball. Just abandon the thing completely as the heat wasn't exactly helping matters. I gave up waiting. The heat wasn't exactly helping, so I decided to drive home and park the car and then walk in. I wasn't over-keen to have to walk in the intense heat, but there seemed no alternative.

After lunch (which was a bowl of tepid soup and a dried excuse for a ham sandwich. Surely it's possible to make a sandwich that isn't shrivelled up. Food from the British Rail school of catering, anyone?) as I was saying, after lunch one of the doctors came with some more encouraging news. They had found an antibiotic which could be administered which would work the infection and for two weeks Carol would need to come into the hospital on a daily basis to have this given via a P.I.C.C. line or something similar, possibly something which is mid-way between a canula and a line, which Carol had for her chemotherapy, but which was removed recently. No clear indication as to them the line would be fitted or exactly when Carol would be discharged. Hopefully tomorrow (Friday). Don't cross your fingers because if Carol is given the go-ahead to be discharged tomorrow it can take five hours for all the paperwork to be done as well as sorting out any medication that she will take home with her, as I can attest when I was in hospital some while ago. First a doctor had to sign the paperwork and it just went on for ever (figuratively, not literally.)

Wednesday morning. As I write this the house is spotless. I don't think it has been as clean. Alfie must be wondering what on earth is going on. There are one or two things that need wiping, such as windowsills, but I'm not getting to obsessive. I now just want the inspection over and done with so I can relax.

1200th Blog post

I can't believe I've reached the 1200th blog post. I wasn't sure I could even keep this blog going for half a dozen posts, let alone more than one thousand. So, here we are, and what on earth am I going to talk about in this post?

It's 8.30 on a Monday morning, and already the sun is shining and it's hot. Really difficult to sleep, so our bedroom windows have been open as well as an electric fan on. But I'm not sure it really cools the room, just stirring up the air a bit. On Ward 22 Carol has been given a couple of fans, a large floor-standing modern and a smaller one which sits on the bedside cabinet. Along the corridor on Ward 22 they have installed air conditioning machines, with a sort of coiled pipe stuck out of the windows. They are more effective than fans as they cool the air rather than just pushing it around. But at least the fans provide some sort of relief from the heat.  The weather forecast is for even warmer weather, reaching as much as 33c in some parts of the country. Which translates to 91F. I was brought up on Fahrenheit, so anything in Celsius is rather foreign to me. Sorry to say, metric weighs and measures leave me a bit stumped, unfortunately. I can never see why we have to have both systems in operation. Surely, as members of the E.U., we should have gone fully over to metric. Why are we still stuck in a sort of vacuum? Which politicians allowed this mess? I think I prefer imperial measures, after all, who has a vague idea what a pint or a gallon is? You can visualise these measurements. Do we have to buy fuel, either diesel or petrol, in metric measures? Gallons or litres? It's rather confusing.

Alfie was following me around the house. Wherever I went, even to the toilet, he was like a shadow. He was waiting for his early-morning walk around Eaglestone Park. We've seen a man walking his dog, a whippet. He was out with his dog the other morning.Unfortunately Alfie has to rush up to every dog he comes across and runs around in circles, wagging his tail frantically. He is just trying to be friendly, but I think some dogs, the more nervous and scared, are not too keen for this sort of excitement. I don't think the man was over-keen as he said his son was in hospital and the dog had been attacked by another dog. Carol told me that, before she knew me, she'd taken Poppy, our westie/shitsu cross, had been attacked by a large dog which rushed up to Poppy when she had been taken for a walk, and this dog had got hold of Poppy and began to shake her. It must have been frightening and it's a wonder that Poppy didn't get hurt. I think it really scared both of them. On another occasion, when we'd taken both dogs out for a walk, we'd only just left the house, when a small dog rushed up to us, I think a Jack Russell Terrier, and tried to bight Alfie. I managed to grab Alfie and picked him up, and we were able to get the dog away from our dogs. Goodness knows where it came from, possibly from one of the houses across the road from us in one of the closes.

I'm currently continuing to clean the house as best I can. I came back from seeing Carol in hospital and immediately took a load of cardboard boxes to the tidy-tip in Bleak Hall. These were the packaging for stuff which should have gone months ago, the packaging for the IKEA unit in the lounge, the box the television came in and goodness knows what else. I was determined it would all go in the car and make just one trip. Not as difficult as it could have been, but it made room in the small bedroom which has become something of a dumping ground for various items.

Sunday, Sunday

I'm trying to find a different title for each blog post I write. I usually try with alliteration, as most of my readers will notice. Sunny Sunday sounds just downright corny. Well, it might be accurate. This morning, as I write this at 7 a.m., the sun isn't blazing, so it's inappropriate. I can hear the boringly repetitive cooing of a pigeon. Or is it more than one? There was one which seemed to spend a lot of time in our garden, looking, frankly, half-witted. Just do tell me, are there full-witted pigeons? I somehow doubt it. Anyway, we had a rather large water filled plastic plant pot near the shed and this stupid pigeon looked as if it was going to dive into this plant pot. It wandered about on the roof of the shed, as if it didn't have the faintest idea where on earth it was. Seemingly lost the plot. It attempted to perch on the bird feeding station and tried to get some of the food out of one of the hanging feeders, without success. The repetitive nature of pigeon noises, coo-coo-coo-coo, does rather get on your nerves. Can't they make a more interesting sound? Infact, pigeons generally, are not the most interesting of birds. The way they move, like some sort of wind up toy, the way their head keep nodding endlessly. Do they not get a headache from doing this sort of thing? I was driving into the hospital campus this morning and as i drove round the inner ring road on the way to the carpark, there was a group of around half-a-dozen pigeons idly standing in the road. They made no attempt to move out of the way. One, in particular, just stood where it was. I think I would have run the stupid bird over if I hadn't slowed down. How totally idiotic these birds are. As thick as a couple of planks of wood. Just were not going to budge. 

Alfie more or less now asks for his early morning walk. He's now got into the routine with me, knowing that I'm as keen as him to get out. No sooner had I put on my shoes than he sets off barking and wanting me to collect his lead from the hook in the kitchen. Who says dogs can't talk? I don't mean using verbal language. He uses body language quite clearly. Although he barks, so I suppose that can be classed as verbal. If nothing else, it's good exercise for me. I had to use my G.T.N. spray because I got a sort of angina attack, not too bad though. I take the spray with me in my pocket because I was told that it's best to use it before any strenuous activity, not that a morning walk is exactly strenuous. Two of these circular walks of  Eaglestone Park, one in the morning and one when I get back from the hospital.

It's turned out to be another hot and sticky day. Not bright sunshine, but nevertheless it's still hot. At night it's just as clammy and it's difficult to sleep. This heat is tiring, which doesn't make sense when I can't sleep. I'm spending time reading, the Dominic Sandbrook book 'State of Emergency.' I watched the first part of his history of the 1980's. I don't know whether he's writing a book on this decade, but I would imagine he would, based on the BBC series and following on from the next book I have called 'Seasons In The Sun' and taking the history up until the election in 1979 which brought Margaret Thatcher to power. The episode of the History of the 1980's seems be explain why things were the way they were in that decade, the rise of individualism, and the roots of what became Thatcherism. A period of strife with strikes, the Troubles in Northern Ireland, unemployment and one or two scandals. It's a period I remember very well, strikes, piles of black bin bags littering the street when there was a dustman's strike, the three-day week, power cuts and television having to close down at 10.30 p.m.

After church this morning, I drove straight to hospital. Carol feeling really bored silly with the hospital, and no wonder, she's been in there for four weeks, or at least it will by tomorrow. Her temperature is stabilised and no further problems with her blood sugar. I think she's realised how important to keep her diabetes under control.

Hospital food is really disgusting. Carol had ordered soup, which was stone cold, followed by what was supposed to be roast chicken. She was really looking forward to it, but she said what purported to be chicken didn't taste of anything. Followed up with ice-cream, rather like those ice creams you get when you go to the theatre, in a small tub. But it was defrosted. Carol said it was warmer than the soup. How on earth can you make such a mess-up of food? Can't be too difficult to produce something at least appetising. I know they have a minuscule budget but how difficult can it be to keep food warm until the patients get to eat it? Have mobile units which have hot water in them, which they use in most catering establishments. These then plugged into mains supply to keep food warm. Hospital food should help patients to recover. Most of the food is thrown away and never eaten, which is a waste.

Another Hot Day

It rained in the night. (Friday into Saturday) We were told on the BBC1 weather forecast yesterday evening. I wasn't aware of it. It clouded over during the evening and I thought it was suddenly going to pour, but it decided against it. But when I got up this morning and peered out of the bedroom window I noticed that the grass in the garden was sprinkled with drops of what must have been rain, but it had hardly dampened the ground. The road outside, having opened the bathroom window when I was shaving, didn't so much as appear damp. I took Alfie our for his early-morning walk (if you can call it a 'walk.' I do the walking and he does the running.)

I went to the One Stop shop in Garraways after 9 o'clock this morning to use the Post Office within the store as I needed a First Class stamp to put on an envelope as I had to post off a form which came from Carol's work, from the salary office. I don't know what it's about, but something to do with her no longer getting S.S.P. (Statutory Sick Pay) and it had to be posted off fairly promptly. I had fun looking for an envelope, but remembered a pack of them which were tidied away when we took the books off the old bookshelves at the time we replaced them with the new IKEA ones a few months ago. All the books were put into various containers and then deposited in the spare room. Fortunately the envelopes were in one of these containers.

Then a shopping trip to Sainsbury's. A need to pick up something for my evening meal, together with milk and a few other items before I went to see Carol on Ward 22.

I decided to walk to the hospital. At least I would be saving on the cost of parking. At the weekend the Macmillan unit is closed so you can't get your parking ticket clipped so you don't have to pay when you leave. It costs at least £4.50 a day to park which soon adds up, so the fact you can park for nothing if you are a cancer patient is something of a relief.

When I got into the ward, Carol said I was just in time as she was going for another M.R.I. scan. Or, at least that's what she thought. There seemed to be something of a mix-up and none of the nurses were sure whether it was booked. Generally you aren't supposed to eat within 3 hours of a scan, and Carol hadn't had breakfast. Then one of the nurses discovered that a scan wasn't booked, which was annoying. We want this done fairly soon because Carol's temperature is now stabilised and the doctor on the ward said that it had to remain stable for at least 48 hours before they could let her be discharged. They needed to see the scan of the infected area in her abdomen before discharging her. Thinking about it, she could have gone home, as she was told she could return home but return to the hospital for the scan and another check-up. A bit of a waste of time, considering she's been in hospital for nearly 4 weeks.

Then a nurse came in to say that, yes, Carol would be having the long-awaited M.R.I. scan. But it wouldn't matter whether she ate, which pleased her somewhat. It seemed to take some time for her lunch to arrive.  Everyone else seemed to have their lunch on the ward well before Carol's arrived. Some people had even finished theirs by the time Carol's arrived.  When it eventually arrived it was a sandwich of some sort, possibly ham, and soup. I don't personally think I could eat hot soup in this current hot weather. I had bought a sandwich from Sainsbury's, along with a bag of Popchips, a flapjack bar and an Innocent smoothie. Carol said that the soup was tasteless, so she had to ask one of the nurses for some salt to put on it. I don't think it exactly improved the taste.

Then the porter arrived with a wheelchair and Carol was whisked off to the M.R.I. scan, not more than a 5-minute ride across the road. The whole procedure took around 20 minutes and I waited in the waiting area.

It was back to the ward after the scan, by which time it was time for me to walk home. I just hope Carol's temperature remains stable and nothing too nasty shows up on the scan so that she can at last be discharged as she really longs to get out of that hospital ward.

Fortunately it hasn't be as roasting hot as of previous days, although the weather forecast says that we're going to get even warmer weather. We do desperately need rain, as the lawns and grass all along the grid roads around Milton Keynes look so parched and brown.

When I got home I thought I'd treat Alfie to another walk. I looked at the post and another letter had arrived asking for some paperwork for our benefit application. I'm now confused as to which address I have to send the form from the salary department, so I scored out the one I had already written on the envelope and put the address they had on this new letter and when we went out for the walk across Eaglestone Park I posted it in the letterbox just along from our house. Alfie was really keen on his jaunt around the park and all told add a few steps on my total for the day, which is now 7712.

Hospital Life Continues

There is one thing we'll have plenty of in a couple of weeks, and that's blackberries. On my early-morning walks with Alfie around Eaglestone Park, the bramble bushes which grow around the periphery of the park and in large clumps in the middle, the berries are ripening quickly. They will have had ideal growing conditions, enough rain early on in the season and now, bright, sunny days. You can't but notice them or else get caught in the sharp thorns that are on some of the over-hanging branches. Some are in real need of cutting back.

Unfortunately some people don't seem to care for the environment in which they live. The amount of litter I come across is appalling, particularly where it's obvious some youths presumably gather, usually around the benches and in some corners of the park. I have seen Council workmen picking up litter, which could easily have been deposited in the bins which are provided all around the park and along the Redway. If you walk along the Redway which leads towards Milton Keynes Academy (which I haven't done in quite a while because Carol hasn't been working there for well over a year now.) the path is strewn with all manner or litter. Near the Academy gates there is a rather unpleasant pile of cigarette ends. This is where staff members who smoke have to go because the Academy, in line with anti-smoking legislation, they are not allowed to smoke on the premises and if they wish to smoke they have to go outside the school grounds I've often walked past when several people are standing there puffing away. It's just a pity that they don't dispose of their cigarette ends in a more sensible fashion. This is also the case in and around Ashfield Medical Centre. If you park your car in the carpark at the rear of the centre you come across a similar pile of cigarette ends, mostly in the gutter. It may not be just Ashfield staff who go there to smoke, as there are other businesses in the same area, a dentists' surgery as well as Cox and Robinson's chemists, but it's still rather an unsavoury aspect of smoking that remains. No one has thought to provide some sort of receptacle to put these cigarettes in. I don't know whether there is a risk to the environment with a build-up of cigarette ends, feeding into the sewer system, or what is in the filter tips of cigarettes, particularly when they get wet when it rains. Still, it looks very untidy and unpleasant and spoils the look of the place, as it does when you walk past the Academy. It doesn't reflect well on either the Academy or Ashfield Medical Centre, unfortunately. I had a probably innocent idea that most people cared enough for the environment and as a result would not make such a total mess of their surroundings, particularly this generation of children. I imagine, with so much in the media about plastic pollution that they would be more considerate, or am I just being naive? Some walk along eating crisps or sweets or drinking from cans of drink and merely throw the empty can or packet into the bushes or on the ground, expecting someone else to pick it up. How difficult can it be to either put it in a waste bin or take it home with them to put in a bin there?

I arrived on Ward 22 in plenty of time to go with Carol to the ophthalmology department. Carol thought it was at 9.30, but on asking at the reception desk on the ward I was told it was 10.00. Also, I had to make sure that a porter came with a wheelchair to take Carol. I'm beginning to feel as if I'm still working as a Support Worker because this is exactly the same sort of thing I'd have to do for those I cared for. A porter came in good time and we were whisked off out of the ward through the 'secret door' into the corridor which links into the rest of the corridors in the hospital. (Not really secret. It's only accessed by staff. It is long and used, it would appear, as a place to store all manner of things which obviously don't have a home elsewhere in the hospital.)

On arriving in the ophthalmology department, Carol was soon checked in. It wasn't long before she was called in to a darkened room (!) and had to do a test, which I think I had to do when I had my eyes tested at Spec Savers about a year or so ago. You had to sit and put your chin on a special rest and peer into a screen which had a series of lights inside it and I think it was to check your peripheral vision. Carol got a good score. They did each eye separately, putting something over the opposite eye each time, doing left and right eyes.

We had to go back and wait in the waiting area. Carol's wheelchair was next to a chair which had been taken by a man, who did at least move so we could sit together. She was then called in to another room to have drops put in her eyes which made her pupils open and it stung to start with. Then she came out with me to wait again. It was supposed to be around 20 minutes, but as she was 'fast-tracked' through the system so she could return to the ward.

Another test. I'm not sure for what. I think they may have taken a photo of the back of her eyes, but I'm not sure. It was over very quickly.

Waited again in the waiting area. Not as many people as there were the other day we were in this department.

Then Carol was called in to see a doctor. It turns out her eye problems are related to her diabetes. The doctor used another device which looked vaguely similar to something they use when you have your eyes tested. It looked incredibly complex, which, no doubt it was, unless you were trained in it's use. Some sort of medieval torture device. You had to rest your chin on a special chin rest and stare into a light whilst the operator fiddles with a lens and a light is shone into your eyes. This is why they put the special drops in your eyes, to make your pupils dilate. I'm not sure whether a photo was taken. Someone said they might take a photo of the back of Carol's eyes. I think I had this done when I last had my eyes tested. Then the doctor explained. Quite clearly and precisely.  The amount of sugar in her system effects her eyes and it will eventually right itself, thank goodness. I went to ask the reception for a 'porter.' The woman said, 'go to the 'something or other' by the door', or something indistinct. I couldn't make out what she said clearly. What she thought I said was 'water' and not 'porter.' Crazy, really. The basis for a lot of comedy, when there's a mistake with a message or someone hears something different to what was actually spoken. Eventually, a porter did arrive and Carol was whisked back to Ward 22.

No sooner had we arrived back at the ward than the doctors arrived. I didn't stay as I wanted to go to the shop to buy something for lunch. On my return, Carol told me that, even though her temperature had stabilised, the doctors wanted her to have yet another M.R.I. scan, something that Carol doesn't like particularly. This is so they can access whether whatever it is that is causing the infection has changed since she started on the antibiotics. So it now seems likely that she won't be discharged until at least Monday. It will then be four weeks since she arrived on Ward 1.

I forgot to mention that Carol had the P.I.C.C. line removed from her arm the other morning. When her  12th chemotherapy cycle was completed the nurses weren't sure whether she would have it removed, just in case she needed further chemo. Carol said that the nurse who did one of the scans a few weeks ago was somewhat harsh when she was given some of the dye that was put in her arm trough the line and it hurt and wondered if it wasn't that which started the infection which caused her temperature to soar. Not clear whether that was the case, but she did wonder. Anyway, apparently she caught the line on a piece of thread or something which lead to the line begin to come out, so the nurses decided it would be best to remove it completely. Carol's pleased, because it's difficult to wash, have a bath or shower with it in place, she wasn't supposed to get it wet or the tube bandage which it was covered with to protect it.

When I got home, just before 2 p.m., I decided that Alfie would really appreciate another walk. Well, I say 'walk.' With him it's more a trot around the park with me following. I had left him in the kitchen. He seems to have got used to the idea of me leaving him on his own. I know he doesn't like it much, but he goes in the kitchen willingly. He has water and food left for him and his own bed in the corner.

And Now . . . Cleaning The House

Having had to contact our beloved landlord, he now wants to inspect the house. So I am busily cleaning and generally tidying the house. Will someone tell me that changing a king size duvet cover isn't the worst job ever??? I then go to find that the clean one is inside out and that takes some time to turn right side out. My experience of stage management and having to deal with 'tabs' (curtains) comes in handy. Working with extremely large cycloramas and tabs has come in handy, strangely. Getting the corners of the duvet to match the corners of the cover and then putting the whole thing over the bannister rail and getting the whole thing to fall out (as we would have done with tabs when working in theatre, so all the creases fall out. Some of those velour tabs weighed a ton and a half. Not literally, but if you did it wrong, when hanging onto a cleat-rail at about 40 feet from the stage floor, could be dangerous. Another story for another blog post, possibly.) Anyway, I did manage to get the duvet cover sorted. All those buttons to match up precisely is quite a difficult job. but it's done now and so another job ticked off the list. The duvet cover and sheets are now in the washing machine and doing their 'thing,' and will be out on the washing line within about another 15-20 minutes or so.

Carol has just this minute rung from Ward 22 to tell me that she's got an eye test at 9.30 this morning and I need to be there as they have to put drops in her eyes and she wouldn't be able to see properly for quite a while afterwards. Just as well I'm available to assist her.

Later. Well, I did get to the ward well before 9.30. After we'd waited some time and nothing happened (much as it did yesterday) we were then told that the appointment wasn't until tomorrow. Carol was told she was to have another M.R.I. scan, but she point blank refused to have it directly after the eye appointment, basically because, first, she wasn't supposed to eat 3 hours before the scan and second, she would have to have drops put in her eyes for the eye appointment and would not be able to see properly, which is why they needed me there to assist her because she wouldn't be able to see properly. There was a possibility that she could have the M.R.I. scan today, but it would be unlikely.

Another possible wrong piece of information. Carol was sure she had a consultant's appointment in the Macmillan Unit this Friday, but one of the nurses did some digging and found that this appointment wasn't until the following Friday. Quite a few mistakes today, but they were sorted out as the morning progressed.

Yet More Hospital

I had to make sure I was on Ward 22 by 9.15 at the latest because Carol was booked to have an appointment at the ophthalmology department within the hospital at 9.30 this morning. We weren't entirely sure whether she had to walk there under her own steam or wait for a porter to come and take her in a wheelchair. As she's not entirely steady on her feet at the moment, it would seem more sensible for her to use a wheelchair. When there was no sign of porter or wheelchair as the time ticked by, I went to the ward reception desk and enquired. It's never clear whether the porter is booked at the same time as the appointment. Having been a Support Worker and carer, I would have had to make sure that such assistance was booked in advance. 

Time ticked by and no porter arrived, with or without a wheelchair. Then, out of the blue, a porter and wheelchair appeared. It was almost 10 o'clock. I think it doesn't matter about time if you're a patient using these clinics within the hospital. Carol was whisked away and we went through the 'secret portal' which only staff can access which is a sort of bridge between Ward 22 and the rest of the hospital. We came out in a familiar corridor and got to the ophthalmology department, which seemed familiar as I think Carol had an appointment in there a couple of years ago. I seem to remember it had these huge yellow and black signs up, no doubt made large enough for those with vision problems to be able to see. If not, for a child with a small level of intelligence to be able to read and understand. We signed in at reception and Carol was very quickly seen by one of the staff who did several tests on her eyes, the old fashioned test with the letters which start large and as they go down they get smaller and smaller. Then the lady used some sort of sensor device, looking a bit like a sort of weapon from Doctor Who or one of the Star Wars films, to measure the pressure in each of Carol's eyes. She couldn't get it to work so had to ask a colleague.to help her to use it. Then she got Carol to do a colour test. I think I've done one of these at some time or other. It's in a book, with sort of mosaics of coloured blobs and there is a number hidden within these coloured blobs. Carol had no problem with this test.

Then we were thrust out into the waiting area. Packed in like sardines. A sort of game of musical chairs. People doing their best to avoid eye contact with anyone (ironic as this is an eye clinic.) Those huge yellow and black signs seem to dominate the scenery. The a very smiley lady appears and Carol is whisked off and into another room for another test. Not sure what it is exactly, but it's over very fast. We come out and have to sit further away from the reception area. Signs on a door somewhat odd saying 'Male- vacant- Female- engaged. Most likely toilets, but it's not clear. Are the men vacant and the women engaged, to be married? Vacant men, as in, somewhat empty-headed? To unintelligent? Totally without any sense? Just somewhat ironic what you can read from such a couple of signs. They have signs on some of the clinic doors which say open and closed at the same time, with a sort of slide thing that blanks out the word when you move it across, but they don't bother to slide this across, so you get 'engaged and vacant at the same time, so you don't know which room is open, vacant, engaged or whatever, which makes the sign pointless and slightly confusing.

Carol is being fast-tracked through the system this morning. It's so she can be back on the ward quicker. I think if you were an ordinary member of the public you cold be sitting here most of the day. The excitement is too much, the boredom far too stimulating for your brain. A television screen on or some music would alleviate the boredom, or even a coffee and tea machine might help, but none of these. People on their mobiles. What would happen if the whole network collapses? What did people do before there were mobiles? I was driving towards either the hospital or Ashfield Medical Centre the other morning, and I saw this youth crossing the road. It seems crazy to cross any of the grid roads around Milton Keynes because most are extremely busy. It's dangerous at the best of times, but at that time of day, probably around 8 a.m. to 8.45, during the mad peak when people are either going to work or school. There are bridges and underpasses so you've no reason to cross a carriageway. But this individual was busily fiddling with his mobile phone. I've walked around the shopping centre with people doing this and almost run into me. Just put the things away and concentrate on the world around you. You might actually miss something, or worse, get run over and killed  by a car or lorry.

Anyway, Carol was eventually seen by a doctor, who said her eye problems were cause by cataracts and she would need glasses.

So, having gone back to the reception desk and handed over the yellow form to the receptionist so that Carol's notes could be updated on the system, she got back into the wheelchair and was pushed back to the ward by another porter.

Another Hot Day?

Tuesday morning.It's only 7 a.m and the sun is shining brightly. It looks as if it's going to be another hot day. I hope not too hot as it's quite difficult to cool down in the hospital ward.

I took Alfie for a walk at 6.20. I've managed to put his harness on, which he had on more or less permanently a while ago, but Carol took it off when the warm weather started. It was parked on the bedside cabinet in our bedroom. Alfie kept looking at it. He'd stand on my side of the bed, the side the cabinet is, and touch it with his nose. I'd connect his lead on to his collar to take him for a walk, but there is a slight problem which Yorkshire terriers have, as you have to watch their windpipes don't collapse which could be fatal. If he pulls when he's on his lead, he coughs, and this isn't something I want to let him do and have horrible consequences, so I managed to get him into his harness yesterday evening. He almost got himself into the thing on his own. He knows where his head goes. So this morning we went out as I say. We went out through the front door and crossed the road and down the patch towards the park and round the circuit we usually go, Alfie being let off immediately we hit the park. The grass has been cut and it looks brown and almost like a field of newly-mown hay, which I suppose it is. It's almost a pity it's not baled and sold off for pet bedding, for rabbits or hamsters or other small rodents. Part-way round I saw a cat in the distance, so I had to take evasive action to prevent Alfie seeing it. Carol said that he wouldn't bother, because the cats who cause him bother when they enter our garden are merely trespassing on his territory, so if he sees on outside in the park, they aren't on his territory, so he wouldn't bark or chase after it. I don't know whether this is correct, but I'm not going to give him the chance, because if he chases a cat he might end up on the road and get run over which isn't something I'm prepared to risk. We walked up towards the road and over onto the Redway and then back towards home. I'm attempting to increase the number of steps, as I have a step counter, rather like a Fitbit, which measures my steps. I'll possibly take Alfie for a further walk when I get back from the hospital later this afternoon.

Later. I had to go and collect the medical certificate from Ashfield Medical Centre early thus morning. I was going to leave it til gone 9 o'clock. Generally, once the early-morning rush is out of he way, there is less traffic and as I had to negotiate the roundabout which is where Saxon Street meets Standing Way, which can be difficult to cross when it's busy. But then I decided to risk it and left the house at 8.40 and got through without incident. I even managed to get the aforesaid certificate without any bother. The doctor has dated it up until January 2019, which should mean we don't need another unless Carol isn't capable of returning work well into the New Year.

I returned home and posted the medical certificate and then immediately went out again. I went to get my hair cut at Central Barbers in the Food Centre. I parked near Xscape and walked through to the barbers. As they opened at 9.30 I had to wait around 10 minutes until they opened. I used to get my hair cut here for several years but then I discovered the barbers in Monkston Park until they closed down. They were probably more convenient, easier to get to and it was easy to park immediately outside. But it's not to difficult to park near the Food Centre. I always attempt to arrive as they open. As it happened there were no other customers, so I was in the chair and having my hair trimmed within minutes of arriving. Once I'd finished at the barbers I went back to the car because I had to collect a folder as I was going to the Civic Centre as I'm in the process of claiming Housing Benefit which we have to claim since Carol has been ill and her salary has been stopped being paid. I had to take identify for us both, so I had our driving licences for that purpose. I had to go to the Nationwide and NatWest to get print-outs of statements for earnings and some of Carol's wage slips for proof of earnings (or not.) You walk in through the front entrance at the Civic centre and you're immediately confronted by a small table. No reception desk. This seems the norm nowadays. It was the same in the Jobcentre the other week and it would appear that it's how NatWest operates. There's no reception desk as there used to be. In there you greeted by a young lady with an iPad and she books you in for your appointment. Not a problem. But in the Civic Centre I was taken by the lady in the reception area to a computer where they signed me in and I was given a ticket with a number on and and told I'd have to wait until my number came up.

The place has a lot of vacant space in it. It's almost as if they've got rid of a lot of furniture. You could hold a ball in the space. Or rent it out for some sort of function. It really is rather a waste. I know they have to allow for people moving about, but it is rather ridiculous.

My number soon came up. I am somewhat intrigued how these systems work. It not only shows up on a video screen, but a very polite woman's voice tells you where to go, in the nicest possible way, of course. Just a thought, would a male voice have the same effect? Then I had to find 'Desk 9.' The red video numbers were rather confusing, and it didn't seem as if they were in a logical numerical order.

I had to hand over the documentation required to the lady who was dealing with our Housing Benefit claim. It was all in order. All we need now is either our Tenancy Agreement or a letter from our landlord. All this dealt with fairly quickly and painlessly. I was able to leave the Civic Centre and walked across towards the main shopping centre and went into Marks and Spencer, which is immediately inside the centre. I was struck by how much cooler it was. Thankfully not as scorchingly hot as on previous days. I selected a sandwich, a drink and crisps, went to the checkout to pay and then walked back through the shopping centre and across to the car which was parked near Xcape.
As it turned out, it hasn't been as bright and sunny as it has been for however many weeks we've had to endure the heatwave. It's been warm, but still somewhat overcast. Not the scorching heat, thankfully.

I returned home to offload a lot of the stuff I'd taken with me in the folder as I didn't want to take it to the hospital ward. I decided to walk to the hospital because it occurred to me that if I went in the car it might be virtually impossible to find a parking space.  It is, after all, only about a 10-minute walk and when it's sunny it's actually quite pleasant.

At around 6 o'clock on Tuesday evening I rang our landlord to ask for either a letter or a copy of our tenancy agreement and he says he wants to do an inspection of the house. I told him why we needed to apply for Housing Benefit and I trust he is understanding of the situation. He may be coming over the weekend so I have begun to clean the house. If I work steadily over the next few days, cleaning each room from top to bottom there should be no problems. As I write this, at 6.30 on Wednesday morning, I have done a load of washing and it's out on the line. As it's so sunny it should be dried within a few hours.

With all the walking on Tuesday I managed to clock up over 9000 steps. Just goes to show how many steps you can achieve when you walk so far in one day.

Dealing with Doctor and other Delights

I've had to visit Ashfield Medical Centre just after 9 o'clock this morning as we need another medical certificate for E.S.A. claim. I mentioned on Friday that I had rung early on that morning and was told that the doctor would only be available to call back on Monday (today). Never mind that it might possibly be vital that the D.W.P. need this document before any further payments are made. Just another dose of bureaucracy, unfortunately. The woman on the surgery reception wouldn't budge an inch. I said we really needed the medical certificate as it needed to be in the post fairy urgently, but there was no way she was going to let me have it even when I said that Carol was in hospital. I would have to have a doctor's phone call. I couldn't see a doctor as none were available. I just said that the system was inflexible, which it is. I did get her to give me a doctor's call-back but she couldn't guarantee when. So I went home and thought that I'd have to wait a few hours before the doctor rang. Why ON EARTH couldn't he just sign the medical certificate and have done with it, and I could collect it later on in the day, without all the hassle of the doctor ringing? He must know that Carol is in hospital and on Ward 22.

I did try to ring the ward to get them to tell Carol I was going to be in later. I think I rang three or four times, but it was obvious that they weren't going to answer. No doubt nobody was on reception to take my message.

Fortunately the doctor rang within about 30 minutes from walking in the door. He was able to say that he'd sign the new medical certificate and it would be ready after 6 o'clock this evening. I won't pick it up until tomorrow morning. So, at least that is one less thing to worry about.

I went into see Carol on the ward. Another patient on the ward. Also, we discovered yesterday, from Ross, who is the pastor at Shenley Christian Fellowship, who told us that the daughter of one of the pastors at M.K.C.C. was also on Ward 22. Which we didn't know about until yesterday evening, so we went to see her as she is in one of the single rooms on Ward 22.

Carol's temperature is still not totally under control. The doctors say that they have found what they believe is the source of the infection and that they have put Carol on a far higher dosage of antibiotics. She cannot be discharged until her temperature is more stable for at least another 48 hours.

I'm determined to discuss all aspects of our journey with cancer, however difficult it might be. In some ways it's almost therapeutic to put all of it in writing. The ups and downs and highs and lows. Our battles with petty bureaucracy and so on. The latest is applying for benefits. Since Carol's salary from the Academy has stopped we really have no choice. We have got the P.I.P. sorted out (Personal Independence Payment) and the E.S.A. is going through (which is why we needed the medical certificate) But now we're waiting to hear about Housing Benefit. As we hadn't heard anything from the Council, not a letter to acknowledge our application, as I would have expected, I decided to ring them this afternoon. It took at least 45 minutes to get through. Now I need to supply them with identity for myself and Carol (ie. Driving licence, some form of paperwork with our name and address on, a utility bill.) proof of earnings (bank statements) and take it all in to the Council offices. So, why did they not ask for all this when we first applied and why did it take my telephone call to them to get this information? Words fail me.

Heatwave Continues

It's as warm and sunny as ever. I've never known such a long period of warm weather such as we're experiencing at the moment. Two years ago we had a similar period, but I don't think it went on as long as this one. We visited a number of properties, some through the H.H.A., (Historic Houses Association), one being Sizencote, near Moreton-In-March, in the Cotswolds. We had toured the gardens and then were about to have a guided tour of the house and went inside with a group of other guests, but we didn't continue, because it was far too hot. I recall the summer of 1976 when we also had a long heatwave and my parents garden began to have huge fissures appear in the lawn, due to the heat. The lawn seemed to crack open like some sort of peculiar earthquake. Also,  my gather kept greyhounds and one of them sat in the horse trough in the field at the rear of the house. It looked so peculiar, this long hound, just sitting there, in an attempt to cool down. But really, we shouldn't complain about the weather. Typical of British people. We never seem to be satisfied about the weather. Either too hot or cold, wet or dry. Make the most of it and enjoy it while it lasts. It can be uncomfortable, but it can be unbearable but mostly, enjoy it.

As I write this blog post, at 7.30 on a Monday morning, the sun is already out. On most evenings it's bright sunshine until well past 8 p.m. 

Carol's best friend from Milton Keynes Academy, Pauline, had left a written note through the door when I'd returned home on Friday evening. She had apparently attempted to contact Carol via mobile phone but only got voicemail. Probably because there is no mobile signal on Ward 22. So I texted her, using her mobile number on the note and then she telephoned back to find out where Carol was and I told her she was on Ward 22. She then said she'd visit some time on Saturday evening. Carol then told me, when I visited her on Sunday morning, that Pauline had come quite late and didn't stay long as they don't like visitors to stay after 8 p.m. But Pauline will no doubt visit again at some point so I have to keep her updated on how Carol is doing using my mobile. 

On Sunday I didn't arrive at the hospital until around 11.45 because I went to church last S.C.F. and then went to Morrison's on the way home, took my shopping to put away and then went to the hospital.

There is a lady in the bed opposite on Ward 22 who is behaving quite selfishly. She is constantly calling out and making the nurses lives difficult. She keeps on saying she 'wants to go home,' but she obviously can't because she's not well enough. The whole situation is stressing Carol who needs peace and quite so she can get well herself.

During the afternoon a doctor appeared, to say they think they've discovered what's causing the infection, which in turn is giving her a high temperature. They can no put Carol on a stronger antibiotic which should help to resolve the problem. I would say that the current hot weather might be contributing to some of the temperature rise in some way. Even though they have fans on in the ward, it's still very warm in there.

Another Few Days In Hospital

We were hoping that Carol might be discharged from hospital today. I usually make sure that I'm on the ward when the doctors do their rounds. They usually arrive between 10-10.30. Carol's temperature is still causing concern. But her blood sugar level is now at a safer level. The results of the blood tests to show up signs of infection seem somewhat ambiguous. The doctor said that she would need to remain on the ward until at least Monday. Not something that either of us wants to hear, but it is better that Carol remains in hospital where she can be observed and have a better chance of this thing being resolved than going home and the infection getting worse and then having to rush back into hospital and the whole sequence of events being repeated. She has numb hands. She has problems holding anything. She says that she can hardly feel anything and it can be difficult to even grip some objects, finding it difficult to do simple things like opening packets or holding a pen. The doctor said it is most likely a side effect of the chemotherapy, even though the 12 cycles were completed almost three weeks ago. The doctor said that a specialist oncology doctor would know exactly what was going on as she didn't have the expertise requited to know what all this meant.

We're having to rely on benefits until Carol gets back to work. Carol has already got what is called a P.I.P. (Personal Independence Payment) and we're in the process of applying for Housing Benefit and what is called E.S.A. (Employment Support Allowance). We got a form (it takes a lot of patience and time and effort to fill these in. Most of them are done on-line. The Housing Benefit one was, as well as the others. What happens to those who don't have a computer or internet access?) which required a cancer specialist to sign the back page. I went to the Macmillan unit first, as I assumed that they would be able to help, but no. Not their fault, but I was then sent to the nurses's desk within the unit, they couldn't help. I even asked at the nurses desk within Ward 22, but they couldn't sign it without the whole form being signed. I even asked one of the doctors who came on the ward round yesterday, but because they're not cancer specialists, they could oblige. By now I was getting annoyed. I had been told by the stoma nurse who came to see Carol yesterday and she had said that any doctor could sign the form, but as I found out, this wasn't the case. In the end I went to the oncology department, where Carol had her 12 cycles of chemotherapy. One of the nurses, who hadn't been on duty when we'd been in there, made the effort to look at the files they had and managed to fill in the form and sign it so, at last I could get it posted off.

On top of all this we got a letter from the D.W.P. (Department of Work and Pensions) that they needed a new medical certificate as the old one is about to expire. So I rang Ashfield Medical Centre. Now, you would think that it would be a simple matter of getting the doctor to sign the relevant form and date it accordingly, but we have to wait for him to ring on Monday morning for me (or Carol, if she's at home then) to explain what we want and THEN go and collect the wretched form, probably on Tuesday afternoon and THEN post it off to the relevant department. WHY couldn't this be done on Friday when I rang? It seems they are making things more difficult than is completely necessary.

Still Sunshine

As I write this, at 6.30 a.m., it's not bright sunshine. Well, probably not so early, as I don't expect the sun has risen long. As a result I thought I'd take Alfie out for a walk. I say 'walk', as he hardly walks, he runs like a little hare, darting off ahead of me and stopping to investigate every tree, blade of grass or twig and then running back to me, yapping noisily. I was determined to more than one circuit of the park as I wanted to see how many extra steps my gadget would register. As I look I can see it reads 1998. I am quite out of breath and I had a slight twinge of angina, but nothing too bad and my G.T.N. spray helped to relieve things. I certainly don't let it stop me going out with Alfie.

The glass has been removed from part of the Redway that passes through the park. As we walked (in Alfie's case, running.) round the other side, along near some houses which overlook the park, I saw a tent in amongst the trees. It makes me wonder who on earth would be camping in the park.

Carol is still on Ward 22. It's over week since we went to Ashfield Medical Centre and we then had to go into the hospital and ending up on the Acute Ward, Ward 1. She has been put on a second type of antibiotics which has to be administered by syringe in the stomach. When I was in hospital myself, some of my medication was administered in this way.

Carol's temperature and blood sugar levels are going up and down, but they seem to be levelling out considerably.

I haven't been writing any more blog posts for the past couple of days. They are becoming very repetitive. Some days there's simply not enough to fill a decent post, so I decided to leave off writing anything.

It's another hot day. I'm annoyed by the Council bin men. (Is that their correct title? Dusbin men is perhaps a bit out of date. Refuse collection operatives? I don't know the correct name.) Anyway, Wednesday is our rubbish collection day, as I've more than likely mentioned in earlier posts. You are supposed to sort your recycling into a pink bag (for some reason they have stopped supplying pink bags and we now get grey ones. What is all that about? Why the change of colour to dull grey?) Then you must put these bags (black ones for other unrecyclable rubbish.) to the edge of your property, in our case, to the road-edge so the dustmen can collect them when they come, sometime after 7 a.m. Unfortunately, plastic bags are susceptible to being attacked by cats and birds, usually magpies and crows, which live in and around this estate. If the bags are opened as they would be by a bird or a cat, the contents are spilled out onto the roadside and the lawn at the front of our house. I came back on Wednesday afternoon to find all manner of refuse left from the rubbish bags. Which was unsightly and positively annoying. I don't think the Council has much common sense in this regard, because if these bags were inside wheely bins, they wouldn't be attacked by animals and birds, plastic bags are far too easily torn open and the rubbish to spill out.

Life on a hospital can become somewhat monotonous, as you would expect. The same sort of routine day after day. Ward 22 is busy.  The patients come and go.  Not as much as they do on Ward 1.

Carol's been told that she should be able to be discharged today (Friday). Her temperature and blood sugar levels need to remain stable before she can go home. On Friday morning, at about 1 a.m., she was given a sleeping tablet so on Thursday she was extremely sleepy. Understandable, really. When I arrived at the entrance to Ward 22 at just after 10 o'clock yesterday morning I was met by Carol, in a wheelchair, being pushed by a porter. She was on her way to having another M.R.I. scan, the unit only a very short ride from the ward. I had to sit and wait in the waiting area as the scan took around 40 minutes. 

More Reading and Watching-1

I'm currently reading Dominic Sandbrook's book 'State of Emergency,' the third of his series of books on the history of Britain since the Suez Crisis of 1956. It's covering the Heath government of the early 1970's and his negotiations for Britain to enter the Common Market, or E.E.C. (European Economic Community) and how he had to get the general public on side and then to get the required support of Parliament. It's interesting, in light of the 2016 referendum on whether Britain should leave what has now become the European Union (E.U.) and how indifferent the people of Britain were at the time. There was a referendum later in the 1970's, when Labour returned to power, which lead eventually to more integration with Europe, the Maastricht Treaty and the eventual creation of the single currency, the Euro (which Britain didn't join, for better or worse.) It's an extremely detailed account of the whole process and well worth reading. I have one more book, 'Days In The Sun' to read once I've completed this volume, and each volume is a think door-topper, each around 600-700 pages. 'State of Emergency' covers the years 1970-74, whilst 'Days In The Sun' covers the years 1974-1979, the year that Margaret Thatcher came to power. I'm hoping that Sandbrook will eventually release a book which covers the Thatcher years of the 1980's and, eventually, one on the 1990's.

The third  series of 'Humans' has finished. It is a co-production between Channel Four and the American network A.M.C., and is based, however loosely, on the Swedish television series 'Real Humans.' I have watched all the series up until now. It has been an enthralling series. If you don't know what it's about, it's set in a parallel world to our own, where synths (robotic humanoids) have been developed to aid humans in many tasks, from caring for the home to working in a range of jobs, such as in factories and warehouses. It's what science fiction should be, it should ask questions about such things as modern life, automation, A.I., computers etc etc. In another respect it can comment on such things which modern society discusses, issues which we are concerned with at present, such as immigration, genocide, integration, the introduction of automation, and how these things effect the world we live in.  As yet there has been no news as to weather a fourth season will be commissioned, but it certainly deserves to be decommissioned as there are so many plot threads which could lead to a fourth season.

I'm watching some of the classic television comedy which is shown on channels such as Gold, Yesterday and W. I've been revisiting sitcoms such as 'One Foot In The Grave.' The one where Victor and Margaret get trapped in their garden shed by a swarm of bees and then Victor has to go to get his eyes tested and has drops put in his eyes and, because he can't see, doesn't realise that everyone has gone home in the optician's. It's as funny as I remember it from first seeing it back in the 1990's. A comudgenly pensioner with a grumpy disposition, the bane of the people he meets, and a wife who often dispares when he is being moody. A gloriously understated performance from Annette Crosbie. Strange to think she played Queen Victoria in the ITV series 'Edward VII.' My mother always made mention the fact, when this actress was on television in anything, that she didn't have all her teeth, for  some strange reason. I hadn't noticed, but it was possibly true. She had all her front teeth, but for some reason or other, had none at the back. Why or how I have no idea. This would be before video recorders were invented, and you could record something off the television and then freeze frame. What an odd thing to remember? And how did my mother know? It must have been a gift to notice such things. Never mind. I digress, as ever. Just saying, it was a long way from Queen Victoria to Margaret Meldrew. She played another queen in the 1970's series on BBC1, 'The Six Wives of Henry VIII,' as Catherine of Aragon, opposite Keith Michell as Henry VIII. It must have been one of the first big colour drama series.

Another episode, from, I think, the second series has Victor attending a life-drawing class and when he gets home he shows the drawing of the naked female model to his wife Margaret, who becomes suspicious when Victor takes a job at the woman's home. Further complicating ensue, as they invariably do in a lot of sitcom, when Margaret has a male neighbour in to help with some jobs around the house and they go out together and one thing leads to another. Misunderstandings and the like, the basis of so much comedy, from Shakespeare right up to date with not only 'One Foot In The Grave' to many other shows, in the theatre and on television.

I recently bought the box set of 'Allo, 'Allo. I absolutely love this series, but I have never seen the earlier episodes. In 1985 I worked on the show as a Supporting Artiste, when it was being filmed on location in and around Lynford Hall, near Thetford, Norfolk. The stable yard was the location of the village square immediately outside Rene café, which is the centre of activities. I was amongst quite a few other S.A.s who played German soldiers and we were supposed to hang around in the square. Some other scenes were shot in the West Tofts Military Training area, not usually open to the public. I also filmed there for a drama/documentary series called 'Soldiers.' We were supposed to be the dead and dying at various battles all round Europe, including the Battle of Waterloo (details of which are mentioned in an earlier blog post on here.)

The thing about 'Allo, Allo' is that it has several plot lines running through it, which is unusual for a sitcom. Usually in a sitcom, you get the same characters appearing every week, and each situation, generally, ties up within each half-hour episode, but with 'Allo, 'Allo you get several of these plot lines running concurrently, the Gestapo chasing after the stolen paintings of the 'Fallen Madonna With The Big Boobies,' The Resistance ('I will tell you this once and once only' etc etc.) The British Airmen and how they will be got out of France to return to England etc etc and how all these inter-relate and run across whole series and, indeed, the entire 80-odd episodes.  It is actually a parody of an earlier BBC drama series called 'Secret Army' which starred Bernard Hepton and Angela Richards, an actress who was in the company when I was starting out in Stage Management at the Everyman Theatre, Cheltenham in 1969. 

Carol Moves Wards

Friday began fairly mild and not a great deal of sun, but as the day progressed, the sun came out and we were back on hight temperatures. The heatwave doesn't look as if it's going to end soon. As much as I like sunshine, I don't like it this hot. Just doesn't suit me.

I drove the car to the hospital, the same as I did yesterday. My thoughts were that possibly Carol would be discharged and we could at last go home, but, unfortunately, the issue of her blood sugar level and her temperature is still causing problems. It is odd that her temperature was around 37.5 only a few days ago and shot up to dangerous levels over a very short space of time as well as her blood sugar levels, which seem to have shot up also. 

The doctors have decided that she needs to remain in hospital for a few more days, to make sure the temperature and blood sugar levels are reduced considerably before she can be allowed home. She was to be moved on to Ward 22 during the afternoon when a bed became vacant there.

Carol had an M.R.I. scan booked for 12 noon. When no porter arrived a before the time, we began to wonder whether she would be going for the scan or not, but by around 12.20 a porter did arrive and she was whisked out of the ward and a short distance along the corridor to the imaging department and around to wait outside the M.R.I. scanner room. I sat in the waiting area outside the doors which had warning signs to 'Not Enter. High risk of radiation.' The whole process took a little under 15 minutes. When the scanning was progressing, the doors automatically locked themselves and lights came on, rather in the manner of when they were filming for television and you got 'Red light and bell' before a 'take.' She soon reemerged and we returned to the ward.

There was a lot going on in Ward 1, during the morning. Lots of patients leaving and new ones arriving. It must be quite difficult for the staff, because they bring new patients in on their beds and there is little enough space to manoeuvre beds around, beds having to be taken out first before new ones can be bought in.

Finally, after a couple of days waiting, Carol was informed that she was going to be moved to Ward 22. We began clearing up her belongings, but we still weren't given an exact time. We just sat and waited, and waited. Bur eventually we were given the go-ahead and   a porter arriving on  the Ward1.

Ward 22 is where we had to go to get the pump removed at the end of one of Carol's chemotherapy cycles, so it was at least familiar to us. Compared with Ward 1, it differs in that the 'bays' are separated into male and female and each 'bay' has only four beds. As a result there's a good deal more room for each patient and each 'bay' has separate toilets and shower rooms. The first thing you notice is how quiet it is. Which makes a change from the constant noise on Ward 1, although, having said that, that ward was relatively quiet compared with some of the other wards we've been on. But on Ward 22 there isn't the constant coming and going of the patients being brought in and taken out. And the patients we came across seem eager to at least chat to you.

Saturday morning. It's started out sunny and bright. I'd decided a few days ago that Alfie needed a treat. He's been locked up in the house every day this week when I'v been to the hospital.  I wanted to take him for a walk before leaving the house. But with one thing and another I forget, but this morning I got myself organised and managed to get him on his lead. Even then he made a great deal of noise, barking and generally getting excited. We got out into the road outside the house and made for Eaglestone Park, where I let him off his lead and he bounded off, running like a little hare. I couldn't see any problems with his back leg which he has previously had a problem with, none of the holding it in the air or anything. Barking madly as usual. We did a complete circuit of the park but when we came down the Redway section near the shops I saw glass in the path. It might well have been as a result of an accident, but the way it looked, with a large and rather nasty larger piece of glass in the centre it looked like it had been put there deliberately to puncture some passing cyclist's tyres. I don't know what sort of idiot would brazenly set up this sort of thing, some mindless fool who should have known better. Even if you were to accidentally step on it with trainers, as I was wearing, it could cause a really nasty accident, with cuts to the soles of your feet, or if you fell on it, you'd need to go directly to the A and E department of the hospital. Also, all around the bench I was hoping to sit on and rest with Alfie during our walk, no end of litter, mostly drinks cans and cigarette butts. How disgusting are people? There is a great deal of litter around the park and it just shows that there is a certain element who live in this area who simply don't care about keeping things clean and tidy, regardless of the fact that there are no end of water bins to put there rubbish. A couple of squirrels running for cover as we walked on, but fortunately Alfie didn't notice them, otherwise he'd have run off in hot pursuit.

I've been up to the One Stop shop at Garraways in Coffee Hall. Just after 7 a.m. once they'd opened. I had to top-up electricity and gas. There's an A.T.M. machine outside so it's easy to check both bank accounts. A few extra bits bought, sandwiches and drink to take with me to the hospital ward which will mean I don't have to go to the shop at lunchtime. From Coffee Hall I drove to the Shell filling station in Grafton Street and put in £40-worth of diesel. One thing I can say about the Renault Captur, it's easy on fuel. The road has been resurfaced , which might explain all the  yellow diversion signs around the area. No road markings, but I suppose those sort of things put back at a later date. They are slowly managing to resurface most of the grid roads in and around Milton Keynes.