Bloodtests and other Matters

I hadn't had a blood test for at least a year. I'm keen to keep a check on my cholesterol levels because if it's too high there is always a risk of another clot which could lead to me having another heart attack. I'd had a letter from Ashfield Medical Centre to have my blood pressure done at their self-service unit within the waiting area of the surgery, which I did a week or two ago. It's not difficult to do and they've now put it behind a screen so that you don't have to endure other people waiting watching you, which rather put me off doing it myself. It is easy to use and the instructions are clear and the machine prints out the results and then you hand this over to the receptionist who then adds it to your notes. In some ways I suppose this is a good idea because it frees up the staff to do other things and you just do it yourself so you don't have to make an appointment.

As regards giving blood for a test has always been a bit of a problem for me. For a start, I don't like needles, particularly when they're stuck in my arm, or leg or any other part of my body. When I was in hospital, particularly when I was in the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital  I had some of the blood-thinning medications administered by hypodermic in my stomach. I think Carol had the same when she was in hospital. It's not to painful, but I think just thinking about it is unpleasant. As regards the blood test giving-of-blood, my problem is that it goes back to quite a few years ago when I lived in Bedford and probably at a time when I changed doctors surgeries and had to have an early-morning blood test and wasn't supposed to eat anything for around 12 hours beforehand. I went along to the blood-test unit at Bedford North Wing Hospital in Kimbolton Road. The actual taking of the blood wasn't too bad. It was when I left I went outside and then felt woosey and had to sit down on a low wall as I was feeling positively faint. I keeled over and fell on the ground, not pleasant, particularly as I wasn't capable of getting up. At that precise moment I think an ambulance arrived and I heard running feet as people were coming towards me. I could see them, but I heard them. I was taken into a building on the hospital campus and had a chance to recover and was then taken to Accident and Emergency to be checked over before being sent home, but the whole incident was somewhat embarrassing because I shouldn't have fainted as a result of the blood test. Most likely it was caused because I hadn't eaten for 12 hours. It's that horrible feeling when I have given blood that I'm going to feel faint and will pass out that is the worst part of the whole thing and I have to make sure I'm laying down when they start the procedure so there isn't a repetition of what happened all those years ago.

When I was in hospital after having my heart attack in 2006 I had to endure giving blood virtually every day of the week I was in the C.C.U. This was often a problem and on one occasion the nurse who did it couldn't find a suitable vain and wanted to take blood from the back of my hand, which I wouldn't allow. On an earlier occasion when I'd gone to my doctor when I lived in Bedford the nurse insisted  that a second nurse be present when I had to give blood, almost making it appear that I was the cause of the problem when they could find a vain and I was told it was because I had narrow veins or something or other, which didn't help either, but then on another occasion the nurse (or phlebotomist, to give the proper term for someone who takes blood) said she's use a special, narrow hypodermic needle which were supposed to be used on children or babies. Also, if I had such narrow pains, it might have contributed to my heart attack. Anyway, of someone of my age, I have exceptionally good skin tone and you can't see any raised blood vessels as a result. Drink plenty, I was told, before you go to have a blood test, because if you're dehydrated, your veins don't expand apparently which makes the finding of a suitable vain virtually impossible. I can see what they mean, because a hose without water in it isn't rigid, one filled with water expands, as it would a vain with blood in it.  When I came out of hospital after the week of being on the C.C.U. in 2006, one of my arms was black and blue with bruising where they'd taken blood. When Carol was in Milton Keynes Hospital recently she had a P.I.C.C. (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) line inserted for her chemotherapy and they used that to take blood from her arm.

I also recall when I was on the C.C.U. at Bedford Hospital in 2006 being given warfarin as part of my medication care plan. It's given to help prevent blood clotting. I don't think I can have been given it for long, just until the threat of another clot was reduced. Unfortunately, when one of the nurses came to remove a canal I had in my wrist, she forget about the blood-thinning properties of the warfarin (no doubt not looking at my care notes sufficiently) because as soon as it was removed there was a spout of blood from the place where the canal was in my wrist. Strangely enough I never had a problem with having a canula inserted in my arm when I was in hospital, unlike when giving blood at other times.

A Lot Cooler

Sunday morning. It's a good deal cooler this morning. It's rather indecisive, not sure whether it's going to rain or not. It's over-cast and there's a wind got up. 

Took Alfie across the park as usual. He's almost insisting I take him and doesn't let go until I have him on his lead and we're out of the house. He doesn't obviously like having his routine changed.

Church is down to one service at S.C.F. during August. From two morning services to one at 10.30 a.m. It's because so many people are away on holiday and it would't be sense to have two services when there aren't enough people to fill two services.

So, Carol had the last of the nurse's visits to give her the antibiotics. She has to go to the Maple Centre on Friday to have the P.I.C.C. line removed. A real relief when that is removed. Now she has six weeks of taking the antibiotics in tablet form.

Monday. Still overcast and actually quite chilly. No sign of the sun today, but not sure what the weather forecast says about the rest of the week. We went shopping in Lidl's at Oldbrook Boulevard. Why do we insist on shopping at the likes of Sainsbury's when the price of the stuff in Lidl's is far more competitive? You get a good basket-full of groceries for around £35 which would probably cost around £50 elsewhere. It's laid out far more logically, not such a wide range of products. Why on earth do you need umpteen versions of, say, tomato ketchup? Who really needs organic tomato ketchup? You don't have to make choices over this sort of product in Lidl, as well as Aldi. Their meat, fruit and vegetables are excellent quality and price. At their till they scan it through quickly because someone had the clever idea of making the barcodes larger and easier to scan. Your groceries go straight into your trolley and then you pack it on a special shelf which speeds up this process so the queues are shorter, or, logic says they should be. Their staff seem to work harder, they have to be far more flexible, working on  the tills one minute and then stacking shelves.

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.

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.

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.

Football and Sunshine

Yesterday morning I managed to virtually complete the clearance of the brambles and weeds at the end of the garden. I did the work before it got to hot. Not a good idea to be outside in direct sunshine. There is still some more to do, but it can wait as I'm not risking going out in the blazing sun.

Carol needed to go back to the oncology department at Milton Keynes Hospital at 2.20 yesterday afternoon because they needed to check the P.I.C.C. line which was used to administer the chemotherapy. We got to the carpark and there were fortunately two or three spaces so that was one less thing to worry about. A woman came in and got in the way as we were attempting to park. Some people just don't seem to care so long as they get what they want, regardless of the other person. Never mind. It was far too hot to argue anyway. We walked into the oncology department and it was a lot cooler than outside. Not many patients. Quite a few of the chairs empty, but few staff to deal with things, as usual, so what nurses were available seemed to be doing several people's work. Carol was soon seen and went into the little room to have her line checked. She may have the line taken out, depending on what the next stage of her treatment is, and probably not until she's seen the consultant next Friday.

We walked back to the car and got out without having to use the ticket machine because the barrier was raised. All that bother to get the ticket checked and then there's no need to use it. It's so irritating that you have this constant annoyance and then the thing doesn't work properly or at all. Never mind, it's them that's loosing the cash involved if it doesn't work.

Some form of refreshment was in order, due to the heat. We drove to Oakgrove, a short drive along Chaffron Way and parked near Waitrose. We went into the nearby Costa and had cold drinks, their tasty strawberry-and-cream cooler which did the trick. It was fascinating to sit and watch people passing by as we sat inside. I can't say I was exactly over-enthusiatsit about the music they were playing in Costa's. That droning, reparative drivel that passes for modern pop music. It was awful. Why is it necessary? As we sat inside Costas we could see children walking past. It was only about 3 o'clock. They were leaving school. From the comprehensive school just over the road from Waitrose and Costa, Oakgrove School. A very different lot of children to those who attend Milton Keynes Academy. They look far neater in their dress. All wearing uniforms, with blazers with the school symbol emblazoned on them. Ties done up neatly (not just the boys, but also the girls.) Not in the least bit scruffy. Talking quietly. Amazing, but having said that, somewhat boring. I bet the behaviour is better than at the Academy. But somehow they looked mechanical, almost robotic. Too good to be true. This was going me ideas. As I'm watching the Channel Four series 'Humans' about robots or 'synths' these children do have the look and feel of synths. It could be as if they were  being controlled. Just the impression I got somehow. Think also of the Cybermen in 'Doctor Who.' Just a bit creepy. There's a story brewing in my mind . . .

I'm not in the least bit interested in football, and not bothered by the World Cup. There was a match on yesterday evening at 7 o'clock. England versus Belgium. Regardless of whether you've an interest or not there is the constant drip drip drip of football . . . football. . . football. Everywhere you go. The supermarkets are stocked up with beer, pizza, Coca Cola, and all the paraphernalia they expect people to want to buy. Nothing wrong with that. I suppose it's better than Brexit. The warm weather is adding to the excitement. Our neighbours were having a party or a barbecue. They were having guests. Quite a few cars drawing up outside the house. The time for kick-off was approaching. Carol was upstairs watching on the bedroom television. I was downstairs, completing the Futurelearn course on Shakespeare. I did watch the  England v Panama match with Carol the other afternoon, although I wasn't concentrating too closely. Just doesn't do it for me. No sense of engagement. I think they over-do the build up to such sporting events. Then afterwards the endless discussion, the dissecting of the game, the post mortem. They go on and on and on and on and on and on. Fair enough, but some of us are bored silly.

The football match wasn't exactly setting the world on fire. You would have known something was going on if there had been a goal scored. No cheers from next door, or from upstairs. It was after an hour or so that I ventured upstairs and there was a 0-0 scoreline. Carol said it was 'boring.' But looking at the screen, it looks remarkably like some sort of computer game. The grass on the pitch is too green, more like carpet. The players look like computerised graphics. If you remember the television show, which must have been one of the first things on Channel 4 when it started in 1982, called 'Max Headroom.' He was a computerised character. Well, the players look very much like him. Unrealistic looking. Tanned, with over-styled hair.  They seem to move in a sort of artificial manner to me. It looks really dull and lifeless. Why?  Loads of advertising all around the ground. What on earth is Wanda? It was being advertised at the edge of the pitch. You can't ignore the advertising. It's there, centre-stage if you like. I know the advertising is essential to the funding of these events, but it does tend to intrude. Is Wanda a person? An insurance company? A beer? A soft drink? Goodness only knows, but whatever she is, she's got a lot to answer for. The sport is being taken over by money. The players are payed in telephone numbers, for merely kicking a ball around on a piece of grass for 90 minutes. Hence the advertising. I think I may have answered my own earlier question. Too much money and if I was looking at the advertising, even if it was for a company I'd never heard of, at least I was thinking about that (which is earning money) even if it wasn't the football.

First Chemotherapy Session

A hard freeze over-night made conditions outside quite difficult this morning. We had to be at the hospital at 9 o'clock. Apparently there was something of a mix-up over an appointment to have the PICC line attached for the chemotherapy (A Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter).  Carol had to go to the X-Ray department to have this line put in. I'm not entirely sure what was involved, but we walked all the way from the oncology department and when we got there were told that she wasn't booked, which was something of an annoyance. So we walked all the way back to the oncology department and a couple of telephone calls were made and she was booked in so we had to walk all the way back to X Ray department. Sitting round near the scanning rooms, where M.R.I. and X-Ray  two men in uniforms appeared in the main waiting area. At first we thought they might have been policeman, but when we saw they had a third individual chained to them it was clear that they were prison warders and the third individual was a prisoner. Then a nurse came through to where we were sitting and asked us to kindly move along the seating so they come come through to wait. No doubt the prisoner was going to have an X-Ray or be scanned by the M.R.I. scanner. The sights you observe when out and about.

It wasn't long before Carol was called in. I just had to wait. It was a longer wait than expected. I had my iPhone with me. The thing rang. It was one of those companies attempting to sell some sort of financial product, but I wasn't interested and told the guy on the other end of the line I wasn't interested but he tried in vain to keep the conversation going. I managed to end the call, but it's annoying to get these 'cold calls'. I can't think where they get my mobile number from and why they think it's alright to ring on the off-chance that you'd be interested in such a product. Apart from anything, I think it's an invasion of privacy.

Carol came out after having the PICC line put in. She said it was a relatively short procedure but the process of setting it up and then being signed off took longer. Seems crazy somehow.

We returned to the oncology unit. The nurses set up a drip with glucose first and after an hour or two the actual chemotherapy solution was set up. Towards the end of the session they set up carol with a small pump which we went home with so the treatment could continue over-night.  In all the session it took several hours and we eventually left the unit at around 5.30. People came in and spent the day similar to Carol, some leaving after several hours.

At the end of the day a doctor came in to tell us that there was a sign from the blood test that Carol was slightly anaemic and the following day she would need a blood transfusion. A pity we would need to come back the next day as we were hoping to have a day away from the hospital.