A Bureaucratic Nightmare

Thursday. 7.30 a.m. It's a great deal colder and far wetter than it's been in quite some time, so it was something of a shock to myself and Alfie when I took him out at around 7 o'clock. He didn't intend to hang around too long outside and soon took me back inside and, as I write this, is tucked up on my bed.

Friday. 4.00 p.m. Some things defy description or logical explanation. Let me elucidate further. I may have mentioned them in these blog posts before, so, if you have read about them before, bear with me. The first is Mears, the contract company who do the maintenance in Dexter House. You may recall that my kitchen was upgraded during the summer. In fact, the work began at the beginning of July and went on for around a month or more. Before the work began I had a visit from two ladies who set out my options for such things as the type of worktops I could have, the cupboard fronts as well as handles on the drawers and cupboards. I asked at that time about the possibility of having an extractor fan fitted, because of the fire alarms being set off when I burnt toast or something in the oven. This has already happened and it means the entire place has alarms set off and the arrival of a fire engine which can be very embarrassing. I was informed that, yes, I could have such an extractor fan and that it would be fitted in the window near the sink. All well and good. There was even a special socket installed near the window, which was where the phantom extractor fan would be located.

Work on the kitchen was completed. I was told by the foreman or manager of the work that the extractor fan would be installed once the kitchen was finished. But nothing happened. And nothing happened, and I waited and, nothing happened. This went on for weeks. I rang Mears and got nowhere. I rang a few weeks ago and had another go and was told 'an order has been raised.' Which raised my hopes that the work would be done. How long would it be before I heard anything? Pigs might fly. Who knows? Then, a day or so ago I was speaking to Barbara, the SHO here at Dexter House, and she told me a workman had turned on Tuesday, totally unannounced, when I was at Camphill, ready to do the installation of the extractor fan. My question is, why just TURN UP unannounced? Did they just expect me to be at home, ready to let them in and do the work? Why did they not contact me via email, text message or phone, to arrange a convenient time to do the installation of the extractor fan? I still await some sort of communication regarding this issue.

The next issue regards my glasses. I had my eyes tested by a visiting optician and around a week later the completed glasses arrived at my door. I had distance glasses as well as reading glasses, but the reading glasses fell apart around six weeks ago. The lens of one side just fell out of the frame. I hardly touched them and I have to wear a pair of ready-made reading glasses I bought in Sainsburys.

I didn't have any idea what the name of the company was who tested my eyes, or any idea how to contact them, but I have now found it, thanks to Barbara, the SHO (Supported Housing Officer) at Dexter House, who has given me a card with the optician company's name on it, together with two telephone numbers to ring. (The company is called Kindsight.) So, I rang the first number and, lo and behold! There was nobody on the other end, just a recorded voice. (How many companies work on this principle? Just a remote telephone number, not even a call centre with a human answering the telephone, and working from 'computerized 'voice activation'?) I had to 'speak after the tone,' and then press the hash key on my telephone keypad to 'save' the message. Will I get a response and get my reading glasses repaired? It is, as they say, in the lap of the gods. When these companies rely on digital or telephone communication, I'm not sure how much you can actually trust them.

The third and final issue revolves around one of the medications I take and have on repeat with my doctor's surgery and then made up at Lloyd's pharmacy in Sainsbury's. I have Atorvastatin which I take in the evening with other medications. I do a regular check to see what I have left and whether I need to do a repeat prescription. Having been a carer, I used to look after peop-le's prescriptions and medications and in some cases do reviews for them. I do the ordering via an app called Airmid, which is connected to my doctor's surgery, Central Milton Keynes Medical Centre in Bradwell Common. You used to be able to contact the pharmacy and then would put the order in, but now you have to go direct to the surgery and they do all the ordering (they use electronic prescriptions which, I presume, saves paper and should, in theory, be far more efficient.) 

I found, when I came to do the order on the Airmid app, that Atorvastatin was 'greyed out', meaning I couldn't order it for some reason or other. I did put in the order through the 'message' feature on the app and assumed that would be fine. On picking up the order the following day (they seem to be able to make the prescription up relatively quickly these days. It could be up to a week after I put in a repeat order.) Atorvastatin wasn't included. I was told by the pharmacist that I needed to have a review, and then I thought I might be able to have that done by Lloyd's. But apparently not. The doctor needs to do it. WHY? I would have thought the pharmacist, whose job it is to know all about the various drugs they deal with, could have done that. Then it turned out that the surgery had rung me so I rang (a day or so after the message had been left as a voicemail, which I never think to listen to. Perhaps, on reflection, I ought to.)

I rang the surgery and got through relatively quickly and spoke to a receptionist. I was expecting to have to make some sort of appointment with a doctor to review the Atorvastatin, but the receptionist ordered the meds for me and the repeat has been sent to Lloyd's pharmacy in Sainsbury's and, as I write this post, the order is ready to collect from Lloyd's as I had a text to tell me it was ready yesterday. So, what's this about a review? Have I still got to have an appointment? What ON EARTH is all this about? I just don't understand any of this. It's no wonder the NHS is in such a mess. Far too much bureaucracy. Things have really got worse, not better. It is stressful, first off, not knowing if I will actually GET the meds, and attempting to be offered some sort of appointment at the surgery. Even now, I don't have any idea of the outcome of this issue.

Dryday

Sunday. 2.20 a.m. Here I am, in the middle of the night, sitting in the lounge because I couldn't get back to sleep. Alfie has just come into the room from the bedroom. Probably he can't sleep either. I have ordered a repeat prescription via the Airmid app because I wasn't sure whether I had an adequate supply and it's as well to have it all ordered in good time to make sure I don't run out of anything. It should be ready for collection from Lloyd's Pharmacy in Sainsbury's by Tuesday at the latest.

I am not attending church in person until we don't have to wear masks. It is virtually impossible to sing when you have something over your mouth and nose. Apart from the fact that it steams up my glasses and having to breathe out hot breath so your face ends up as if it's been in a sauna, it sparks off that horrible cough I've mentioned before in these blog posts. I'm not entirely convinced that face-coverings prevent the spread of the coronavirus. Or protects you in any way. Most of those that people wear will be unwashed and not particularly hygienic, and those that are 'medically' serviceable, or of a higher standard, are not as effective as they might be. Also, some people, probably a very small percentage of the population, insist on disposing of them by flinging them on the ground. Very likely to be a cause for environmental problems as well as likely to contaminate water etc because of the chemicals they contain or the materials they are made of.

Later. 6.55 p.m. I've spent a great deal of time over the weekend transcribing my handwritten material into word processing. It's going better than I thought and have cut and pasted some material from elsewhere that had to be put in the correct place for the story to work.

Monday. 6.35 a.m. Another day and still under some form of lockdown. Today should have been 'Freedom Day' but things haven't changed since the so-called 'Delta Variant' is supposedly causing problems. But we have a vaccine  (something like 60 million doses have been given.) and a large percentage of the population has herd immunity. It's almost as if the government doesn't trust it to do its work. On BBC Breakfast (yes, I'm back watching that again.) they are discussing booster vaccines. Which makes sense as they don't know how long the vaccine will remain effective. But I'm thinking, surely, once you've had the two doses, your body will build up natural immunity. Keeping people apart surely prevents this natural ability to build up any immunity.

10.30 a.m. I've been into the city centre intending to apply for an ATM card which I can use with my newly set-up savings account with Nationwide. After parking in my usual place near The Point and paying using the RingGo app and then walking into the centre (which is deathly quiet as there are virtually no other shoppers about. When I see any they are walking the wrong way in the system is set up. You are meant to walk one way up and the other to walk down, but, as I say, some people don't appear to know this. They can hardly ignore the signs that are everywhere unless they have poor eyesight, can't read English, or have no ability to read whatsoever.) I arrive at the Nationwide branch and then I'm told that the account I have set up doesn't have an ATM card, because it was set up online. I wasn't made aware of this when I set it up. Oh, never mind. It's not important, although I could change it to be operated with a card. Such is life!

I then walk to Marks and Spencers. I want to go to the menswear floor but the escalator wasn't working. It looks as if it's being repaired, so I decide to use the stairs. Hidden away to one side of the store and it's quite a hike up to the floor I want. I think I might need oxygen, because of the effort. The irony, oh the irony! Also, a dose of sarcasm here. I hunt around to find polo shirts and discover several which I like and then take photos with my iPhone. The idea being that I will have some M and S vouchers soon, earned from doing online surveys. I can order the required items online and use the vouchers and then 'click and collect', which I have done before. I found the product number on the hang tickets and put these numbers on the M and S website. I know, a lot of effort but a good deal easier than finding and paying for the item in-store. It also means you just go in and collect the items without any more frustrations, such as queuing and paying.