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.
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.
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