I've just returned from taking Alfie out for his morning trot across Eaglestone Park. I wasn't going to take him, having first peered out of the window. A somewhat gloomy and over-cast sort of day on the weather-front, which was really enough to put me off going out, but he hasn't been out since Wednesday. He follows me around the house and when I get dressed in the bedroom he's got that expectant look he has when he thinks he's going out. It is a bit unfair on him, being left alone in the house when I got to the hospital to see Carol. He must have wondered where on earth I was the Sunday I had my heart attack and didn't come home. Then Carol keeps on disappearing and he must miss her. He usually sleeps on my bed, but over the past week and a bit he's been sleeping on the sofa or he goes into his bed in the kitchen. Must be totally confused, poor little dog.
Anyway, we got out of the house and into the main part of the park where I usually let him off his lead. We did the full circuit, until we came across a man walking a whippet, which was looking somewhat nervous. Alfie bounds up to the poor thing and just wants to be friends, as usual, but the poor dog wasn't interested. I had to quickly put Alfie back on his lead. I apologised to the dog's owner and walked on.
I could feel spots of rain. It was over-cast, but the sun was making a very weak attempt to come through. It's a good deal colder than the past couple of days. If it was attempting to rain, it wasn't making much of an effort.
I'm concerned about the amount of pain Carol is experiencing. The pain management team are working on getting this under control with various strengths and concoctions of drugs at their disposal, but all this is pointless if, when Carol asks for pain relief, the nursing staff don't act quickly to administer it, or if they do, it isn't always the correct dosage. This really needs to be sorted out. I just hope that today she's feeling a little more comfortable. She now has a special air mattress which is to help relieve this discomfort. It is plugged into the mains supply and sometimes automatically adjusts itself by filling up with air. Quite intriguing how it works.
Later. The weather has held off for most of the day. Any rain didn't eventually fall and the sun has been shining, although rather weekly.
We were hoping that Carol's consultant, Dr Saka, was going to visit her on the ward. He came last Friday, but only after I'd gone home. He wanted me to be with Carol when he told us what the next stage of her treatment was going to be. Apparently he came around 4.30, but to be honest I couldn't wait much longer as I was gradually falling asleep. Carol had quite a few visits, including her manager at the Academy, Kevin, who hasn't visited before. She was quite tearful. She so misses her job. He was being really lovely, he's a good man and it's obvious that he thinks a lot of her. He should do, she's a brilliant and highly respected teacher. They talked about how things were doing at the Academy. A lot of changes, staff leaving and new science laboratories now built and opened. Then Sarah, who is one of the hospital chaplains, turned up. We've had several visits from her, and then Dr Ben came in (I'm not sure of his surname) who is part of the palliative care team and he deals with pain management. He was being shadowed by a lady who I presume is going to work in his team, finding her way around the hospital, which must be quite a challenge as it's all corridors, many of them long and it's like being in a sort of maze if you don't know where you're going.
By 4.30 it was quite obvious that Dr Saka wasn't going to appear, so I collected my bits and pieces together, such as they were and bade Carol farewell and left for home. Let's hope we get something from the Oncology Department or Macmillan early next week or that Dr Saka does list Carol on Ward 19.
Something which sparked my sense of humour (if you can call it humorous, which some might not, but anyway, my sense of irony.). Walking about the hospital, as I do because of visiting Carol in Ward 19, I see lots of those yellow, plastic signs, usually triangular in shape, which are put down when the floor is being cleaned and is likely to become wet, or when there is a leak. They usually have wording printed on them, such as 'Beware, wet floor,' or 'Trip hazard,' or 'caution: Wet floor,' or words to that effect. Well, they are a good idea, to protect you from slipping over and damaging yourself. But then, why do they put these yellow signs up directly in the way, where you can trip over them, say, in the middle of a door-way, usually leading to a toilet, so you come through the said door and -trip over it, making the thing even more dangerous than the hazard they are supposed to be warning you about?
Later. The weather has held off for most of the day. Any rain didn't eventually fall and the sun has been shining, although rather weekly.
We were hoping that Carol's consultant, Dr Saka, was going to visit her on the ward. He came last Friday, but only after I'd gone home. He wanted me to be with Carol when he told us what the next stage of her treatment was going to be. Apparently he came around 4.30, but to be honest I couldn't wait much longer as I was gradually falling asleep. Carol had quite a few visits, including her manager at the Academy, Kevin, who hasn't visited before. She was quite tearful. She so misses her job. He was being really lovely, he's a good man and it's obvious that he thinks a lot of her. He should do, she's a brilliant and highly respected teacher. They talked about how things were doing at the Academy. A lot of changes, staff leaving and new science laboratories now built and opened. Then Sarah, who is one of the hospital chaplains, turned up. We've had several visits from her, and then Dr Ben came in (I'm not sure of his surname) who is part of the palliative care team and he deals with pain management. He was being shadowed by a lady who I presume is going to work in his team, finding her way around the hospital, which must be quite a challenge as it's all corridors, many of them long and it's like being in a sort of maze if you don't know where you're going.
By 4.30 it was quite obvious that Dr Saka wasn't going to appear, so I collected my bits and pieces together, such as they were and bade Carol farewell and left for home. Let's hope we get something from the Oncology Department or Macmillan early next week or that Dr Saka does list Carol on Ward 19.
Something which sparked my sense of humour (if you can call it humorous, which some might not, but anyway, my sense of irony.). Walking about the hospital, as I do because of visiting Carol in Ward 19, I see lots of those yellow, plastic signs, usually triangular in shape, which are put down when the floor is being cleaned and is likely to become wet, or when there is a leak. They usually have wording printed on them, such as 'Beware, wet floor,' or 'Trip hazard,' or 'caution: Wet floor,' or words to that effect. Well, they are a good idea, to protect you from slipping over and damaging yourself. But then, why do they put these yellow signs up directly in the way, where you can trip over them, say, in the middle of a door-way, usually leading to a toilet, so you come through the said door and -trip over it, making the thing even more dangerous than the hazard they are supposed to be warning you about?
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