Tuesday. 6.30 a.m. I have a cold today. I have been sneezing a lot and as a consequence, I won't be going to Camphill. I don't think it's a good idea to go and then spread it around an already vulnerable group.
I may just add, as a sort of footnote, that there may be grills, or at least a grill, mentioned in this post, but nothing about spills, whether slipping over in the ice and snow or any sort of spill requiring me to clear up something spilt. Just thought you'd like to know. Well, it's not a footnote, come to think of it, as it not at the foot of the post. Just to clear things up before I get into this post.
I purchased a George Foreman grill from Argos a few days ago. I had around £ 40 worth of vouchers, so I didn't actually pay with cash. I have mentioned the monthly men's breakfast which we have where we usually go somewhere such as Morrison's at Westcroft or The Fountain at Loughton but we had discussed having it in the café area at The Oaktree Centre once again. The main obstacle to this is not being able to use the kitchen, which is fully equipped but hasn't been gas safety certified. (Actually, it wouldn't be a problem if the certification didn't cost in the region of £250.) I thought that a George Foreman grill would be handy as you can cook paninis on it and some fried/grilled food such as sausages.
Wednesday. 6.45 a.m. On Monday evening I was going to have pork chops for my evening meal and I usually sear them in a frying pan before I put them into the oven to cook through thoroughly. Because of having the George Foreman grill sitting on the shelf and unused and the fact I was determined to try it out for the first time, I got it out and set it up on the work surface in the kitchen. It didn't take it long to warm up and when it was ready I put the chops on it. But, as it began to cook, it produced steam and a bit of smoke, which set off the smoke/fire alarm. It didn't just go off in my flat but throughout Dexter House. I waved a tea towel under the fire alarm in the ceiling and I think it cleared the smoke. But thinking about it now, why did nobody come and see what set the alarm off? Fortunately, it didn't go off for too long, otherwise, we would have had a visit from the fire engines which is what usually happens when a fire alarm is set off. I was supposed to have an extractor fan fitted to my kitchen window by Mears, but I am still awaiting this installation so that this sort of thing doesn't happen. Pigs might fly!
Another box ticked. I have ordered my grandchildren's Christmas present from Smyth's website and the present will be delivered straight to their home in Worcester. It saves me having to go out and buy it and then wrap it and then go wherever (probably not a Post Office, because of the current strikes.) and have it sent by whatever means. All this was done at around 3 a.m. because I was wide awake and couldn't sleep.
10.10 a.m. Yet another snowy day, although we haven't had any more fall. Probably just as well. As I write, the sun is out and I have been out to clear the car of ice. I have sprayed the windows and had the heaters on, but I have mislaid the scraper. I'm keen to have it clear enough to see out properly as I am going to have the blood test at 11.20. I don't relish having needles stuck in my arm, as I must have explained in earlier posts. If it's done quickly, then I don't mind. It's when they say 'I can't find a vein' that it worries me. After I'd had my first heart attack back in 2006, they wanted to take blood and at one point the nurse (venipuncturist? Is that the correct name?) had a problem taking blood and wanted to take it from one of my hands. No way would I allow it. It would be far too painful. It should come from a fleshy part of your anatomy. They took it from my leg. I left the hospital with one arm looking black and blue where they'd attempted to take blood, and more like I'd been in some sort of accident, or a battle. Yes, the battle with a needle. All this because I have narrow veins and at one surgery they decided that they needed to use a needle which was really narrow and suitable for taking blood from babies!
1.45 p.m. I have been for my appointment to have blood taken for a blood test. It was scheduled for 11.20 a.m., but I almost always attempt to arrive at such appointments early, so that I can possibly be seen earlier. I signed in, using the computerized system, but then I had an urgent need for a toilet (I'm afraid age has a large part to play in this.) To be honest, I prefer to look for toilets on my own, without having to ask. Well, it can't be too difficult to find such facilities without having to ask. Most toilets are well enough signposted or at least, market 'Ladies' or 'Gents.' But when I had a wander, the only one I could find was locked. You needed a special Radar key, which I know about, having been a carer of people who require facilities and so have the special key with me for such an eventuality. But, in a doctor's surgery, you would imagine that toilets would be easily accessible without having to resort to such a key. So I had to go to the reception desk and ask where the nearest toilet was and was then told to use the Radar key, which was in a special container at the front of the reception desk. Which is what I did and was able to use the aforementioned facilities.
I returned to my seat in the waiting area and then someone came out calling for 'Mr Gillespie.' It made me look up, as my middle name is Gillespie, which was the surname on my maternal grandmother's side of my family. At one time I even double-barrelled it and called myself John Gillespie-Murdoeh, but looking back that sounds somewhat pretentious. I went with the nurse to the room and told her I would need to lie down to have the blood taken. So, I lay on the couch and she started to look for a vein in my right arm. It was then that I began to worry that she wouldn't be able to find a suitable vein and be able to take blood. She then decided to have a go at my left arm and after some effort, she did manage to take some blood.
When I go for such an appointment, I am usually able to start some sort of conversation, but she wasn't going to communicate in any other way except about the job at hand. I find, in such situations, that some sort of rapport can elevate the tension, particularly as I have terrible experiences with giving blood (as mentioned earlier in this post. She seemed in rather an uncooperative mood and a bit glum, to say the least, but at least the blood sample was taken and I should get the result in a couple of days. I said 'perhaps I am bloodless' and 'I wouldn't make a very good vampire,' but to no avail. Never mind. Some falls on stony ground. I just have to accept that some people just don't appreciate my sense of humour, such as it is.
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