Another Fun-Filled Week!

Do you sense a certain amount of irony in the title I chose for this blog post? Well, probably. As I put finger to keypad, or keyboard or whatever you want to call it, it's Sunday morning, 9.37. I went out with Alfie as usual. Quite nippy, and I assume there had been a sharp frost in the night. Walking along the pavement leading to Oldbrook Green, there is the usual patch of water. I can't think where it comes from. I reckon it's a leak from somewhere or other. Further down I nearly slipped over as there's a layer of ice, but you have to watch where you put your feet and I really don't fancy falling over. I will have to be more careful.

I  have being doing some more writing! Horray! I have just been lazy recently and really, honestly, I have had no excuse to NOT get on with any of it. Having a story arc or at least a set of notes which I follow, it's relatively easy. Just needed the inspiration to merely GET ON WITH IT! I'm a little surprised how things develop, once I get going. It needs heavy editing, but at least I'm working on it. It's not until I actually get writing that I find it often goes off in an entirely new direction and even new characters turn up and they can take things off in another direction. A bit like when you are on a car journey and you suddenly have to take a different route, probably because you might get stuck behind a slow moving vehicle and turn off the main road because it's probably quicker and as a result you discover something you wouldn't otherwise have come across, taking you into unexplored territory.

Another project of mine is to record stuff to upload onto Soundcloud. I'm using Garageband, the sound and music suite on my MacBook. I'll be honest and just say that I haven't really looked at this bit of kit and the MacBook is well over five years old. I can do most things on my laptop, but never really considered using this. I think digital recording is yet another area that's new to me. I have worked with reel-to-reel tape in the past and, as part of my job when I worked in stage management, I had to put together sound tapes for the plays I worked on and used reel-to-reel tape recorders (this was some 45 years ago, so digital wasn't around then. Recording wot digital is an entirely different ball game, no physical tape and it's far more sophisticated. The recently purchased microphone is now coming into its own. I is semi-professional and of fairly good quality and gives as good a result as I could have hoped.

(Monday)  A new month begins. It's the 1st of February.  The roll-out of the covid vaccine continues. Let's hope that it means that things can get back to some sort of normal, if that's possible. I really hope so. 

It's a mild morning. Thank goodness there's no ice to slip on as we walk along the pavement towards Oldbrook Green. But there is a fog, which hangs over the centre of Milton Keynes which you can see from Oldbrook Green. 

(Tuesday) Bedford Hospital is in the news because Sir Tom Moore, the amazing gentleman who did all that walking in the garden of his home for his 100th birthday and raised something like £30 million for NHS charities, has been admitted to hospital with coronavirus. This is where I was in May 2006 when I had my first heart attack. 

A mild morning.

(Wednesday) Sad to learn that Sir Tom has died of coronavirus. Make me a little bit cross that he had to die from the virus. Something wrong with the care he must have been given. But he has left an amazing legacy. A truly lovely man.

Carol Having Surgery . . . Or Possibly Not

Carol has been visited by a whole range of different people during Thursday whilst I was with her. She has continued to be in a great deal of pain and for me it's really difficult to see her struggle with this horrible thing and not be able to do anything to help. During the afternoon she was visited by the palliative care team who are involved in managing the pain. Then some of the doctors came and did an examination and decided that some of the pain is due to an abscess that would need surgery to drain to relieve the pain it is causing. In very quick succession, barely 20 minutes or so, a surgeon came to see her to discuss this and it was decided that a further scan would be needed to be able to see how things are shaping which should help the surgeon. We were expecting the scan to be during the time I was with her, but, having been on the ward since 10 o'clock I had to leave at around 2.15. Unfortunately I need to get some rest. Carol was concerned that the scan (not exactly sure whether it's a C.T. scan or M.R.I scan.) would mean she would be in a lot of pain because of laying on the bed they use for this procedure, although the doctor in charge of her pain said that they would give her extra medication to help relieve this, but it would be no use if they didn't know more or less exactly when the scan would be because it takes at least 20-30 minutes before the medication takes effect. 

The surgeon came back with the paperwork for consent to the surgery and this was duly signed by Carol and he discussed further the procedure that would be involved. As I write this (7.35a.m) we're not entirely sure what time the operation will be, but apparently after 8a.m. So I'm not sure exactly what time she's likely to be back from the  operating theatre and, no doubt, awake after the anaesthetic. As a result I will have to contact the ward to discover all this or to get them to telephone me when she's back on the ward.

Anyway, I still managed to take Alfie out for his usual walk (well, it's a walk for me, but more like a trot for him, whilst all of the time he's yapping excitedly.) Yesterday we didn't go, because I just didn't feel 100%. Just one of those days, unfortunately. Nothing bad, just that some mornings my medication can make me feel queasy. A surprisingly mild morning. Eaglestone Park looking more than ever autumnal. The days are beginning to draw in and it's getting dark earlier and the mornings darker, longer. If Alfie had his way he'd be going out in the dark, but it wouldn't be such a good idea, so going out at around 7.15 is a good deal more sense.

Later. 8.50a.m. Carol has now texted me and apparently she's not having the operation. No doubt they've looked at the scans and decided against operating to drain the abscess. Not sure at the moment exactly what's going on and probably won't know until I go into the ward a bit later this morning. All a bit up in the air, as you might expect.

Later still. It's now almost 3 o'clock and I'm back home from being with Carol for most of the day. She appeared to be much brighter than over the past couple of days. We can't quite understand what happened regarding the surgery which had been planned over the last 24 hours. Infact, Carol hadn't eaten since early yesterday because of the expected surgery. She had a  C.T. scan late yesterday evening and I presume the surgeons looked at the results and decided that surgery was unnecessary and wouldn't benefit Carol. They say an abscess didn't show up on the scan. So, I don't know what to make of this. What surprises me is that none of the nursing staff on Ward 19 were aware that the operation had been postponed. It seems there is a communication problem between the nurses and the doctors. Which is crazy, considering it is them who have to deliver the care to their patients on the ward. The pain doctor had prescribed stronger pain relief medication but this will take several days to arrive from the hospital pharmacy, and it is likely that Carol won't get this until probably Monday at the earliest. Which makes it seem rather pointless if they can't get it to her quicker. Just another problem that needs to be ironed out and I can now see why the N.H.S. has so many problems if these sorts of situations arise.

So, amidst all this, no nearer to having Carol discharged from hospital at the moment, unfortunately, but there's no point her coming home until they've got on top of the pain and to be hones, being in hospital is the best place at the moment.

Later still. About 8.30 this evening Carol rang. She said that Dr Saka, the Oncology consultant, arrived on the ward. It seemed quite late, but he is an incredibly busy man and no doubt found it difficult to fit in all his patients, but his office is just below Ward 19, within the Macmillan unit. He will be coming back between 11 and around 3 on Tuesday so I want to make sure I'm there when he comes.

Ward 19 seems very noisy. Not just the patients, but the staff seem to make an incredible amount of noise. There is a door immediately outside Carol's room and each time someone goes through it, it makes a slamming sound. Also, a female domestic was cleaning one of the bathrooms or toilets close by and dropping the toilet seat repeatedly, getting really annoying. Then an elderly patient was walking up and down the ward using a Zimmer frame to walk with and it was making a dragging sound as if the wheels hadn't been oiled in years or the brakes were still on (not that the wheels on a Zimmer frame have brakes, but it seemed like they were locked firmly) Anyway, you would think that a ward would be a quiet and peaceful place where you could rest and recuperate, well, that's what I imagine it would be like. If I remember correctly when I had my first heart attack in 2006 and I was on the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital, I'm almost certain they had at least an hour's quiet. Not that it's ever quiet on any hospital ward, what with staff coming and going and new patients being moved in and out.

Even later. Carol rang me on my mobile at home. She told me that Doctor Saka came to see her on the ward. at around 7 o'clock. She asked him about the new chemotherapy treatment which can't proceed until her current situation is under control, the infection, which is being treated with antibiotics as well as the intense pain. He told her the cancer can be treated successfully and that he would be back to see us both on Tuesday between 11a.m and 2p.m., so I will make sure that I am on the ward when he arrives.

More Reading and Viewing

I'm currently reading Andrew Marr's book 'A History of Modern Britain.' I read his earlier volume, 'The Making of Modern Britain' which starts with the death of Queen Victoria in 1901 and concludes with the end of the Second World War in 1945. This second book (which, apparently, was written before the other book.) takes up the story in 1945 with the General Election which saw Labour win a landslide victory and Clement Attlee becoming Prime Minister. This administration ushered in the Welfare State, the birth of the N.H.S.,  and National Insurance. I'm not sure this wasn't written to compliment a documentary series which Marr wrote and presented on BBC 1. I think I may have seen it, but, when I saw these two books in The Works in Milton Keynes Shopping Centre I had to buy them. Full-price they cost £9.99 each, but they were selling for £6 for both.  I have to say I love a good bargain, and at that price they were more than a bargain.

Yesterday evening there was a documentary on BBC1 which was a sort of complimentary programme to the drama series 'Call The Midwife,' which gave a background to that series and mentioned the introduction of the National Health Service in 1948, so it was interesting to read about this in the Marr book and hear people talking about this on this programme.

I also learned that in 1947 there was a 'Big Freeze' that winter. Roads were blocked and food had to be rationed, even more than it had been during the war which ended in 1945. Things were certainly extremely tough. It reminds me of the winter of 1962-3. That was exceptionally cold. I lived on a farm and my father had real problems keeping pigeons off the Brussel sprouts which they grew on the farm.  They used what are called gas guns, contraptions which ran on cylinders of what I imagine would have been like caller gas, with a timer, and these things had a charge in them, with a timer, which was let off at a pre-determined length of time and which scared off the pigeons. It was one of these gas-guns which went off in the back of the Land Rover, which my father was driving at the time, and perforated my father's ear-drum and as a result made him profoundly deaf which he was forever after until he died in 1993. He did wear a hearing aid, when he could be bothered to wear it, but his hearing was never the same after that incident, as you can imagine. It must have been a very loud explosion, and in an enclosed space, as it would have been in the back of a vehicle and he would have been sitting quite close if he was driving the Land Rover. 

It was also the year I had my appendix out. I was supposed to go into Victoria Ward at Bedford Hospital over Christmas that year, but fortunately I went in well before Christmas so I could be at home for the Christmas period. I remember that ward, it had tile panels on the walls, each one showing illustrations for nursery rhyme characters. I don't imagine that old Victorian ward is still being used as a children's ward. Anyway, at Rushmoor School which I attended, no doubt after I returned to school in 1963,  the playground became so snowed over because it snowed and then thawed and then froze I seem to remember, the snow became so thick we had to go out and help shovel it off the surface (unlike today, when children don't have to help with anything at school, no doubt they would say it was contravening their 'Human Rights' to have to work, or even help to pick up litter which is something we had to do at school. Anyway, the snow was heaped at one end of the playground, against a wall, and when it was frozen solid, it began to push over the wall. I'm not sure it was able to actually collapse it, but I do remember it was pushed to a quite sharp angle.

10th Anniversary of my Heart Attack

Goodness gracious. How time flies. Sorry to use a really over-worked cliché, but it's true. I can't believe it's ten years since I had my heart attack. The night of 17th and 18th of May 2006 was when it happened. I have written quite extensively in an earlier blog post on here about what happened on that night and how the paramedics came and I ended up in the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital. I feel a good deal better than I did then. Actually, I feel as good as I've felt in a good long while. No real problems.

I've been mowing the grass at the back of the house. (I still refuse to refer to it as a 'lawn.') I did a cut yesterday, and to be perfectly honest with you, it looked really poor. As if it had been nibbled by some strange creature. Scrappy, to say the least. So I've cut it again and now it looks a good deal better. Not really like a lawn (it's never going to be that as it's just horrible grass.  Tough and terrible.) But it looks a good deal better. I've also been Stimming the long grass around the edges and cut some of the twigs that grow up along the fence. It's taken me a while to get the hang of the Strimmer (actually it's not a Strimmer, it's a Qualcast machine. 'Strimmer' is a registered trademark, but it's like 'Hoover' being used as a generic term for a vacuum cleaner.  But it works in exactly the same way.) It was worth buying a more expensive one as the extra power this one has means it does the job far better than a cheaper, lower power machine.)

The shed where the mower and strimmer are housed is beginning to cave in. Or at least the roof is. It has a hole in it. During the winter the wind took some of the roofing felt and left the remains, rotting and just past it, in the garden. So, what happens when the whole roof caves in? I don't suppose our beloved landlord is going to get it repaired. The lady next door, whose shed backs onto ours, had hers reroofed by the Council (they presumably own her house. They repaired the fence when it was blown down by a really severe winter wind some while ago.) The shed is full of the odd belongings of former tenants of this property, such as ancient portable televisions, baby baths, etc etc. Similar leaving are in the other shed, including a really old mattress and other bits and pieces. The meter cupboard, which is at the front of the house, contains similar junk. Why couldn't either the landlord or SmartMove, the agency we originally rented from, have this stuff removed before we moved in? It surely wouldn't have taken too much to get a skip and just throw the stuff away. Too much trouble to expect such a service, without us being charged. Gary, our neighbour the 'other side' suggested he repair the roof of one shed and take away all the junk within and then make one shed waterproof and then put a door in from his garden side so he could use it to store his things. But then he had second thoughts, having spoken to someone further along the street who knows our landlord and said that it might not be such a good idea because once they found out they'd want to charge rent. Also, I imagine that it might contravene our tenancy agreement, sort of 'sub-letting' or something. But it still means that we can't put anything of ours in there, including our bicycles which are still kept in the entrance hall of the house.

Early Childhood Memories

What are my earliest memories? That's a difficult one. I remember once going to stay at Mill Farm, where my maternal grandparents lived. It's unfortunately no longer there, having been demolished and replaced by a business park. I was staying there with Jonathan Kendall, one of my cousins. We can't have been very old. There was a channel that ran along the concrete path outside the back door of the house which caught the water when it rained. This particular morning my grandfather and uncle Michael who still lived there had gone out to work on the farm and were about to come in for their lunch at midday. It had been raining heavily and Jonathan and I had nothing better to do. When grandad and uncle had gone into the house to have their lunch they had to take their Wellington boots off before going inside and put them in the glassed lobby. Little me and Jonathan saw the Wellingtons sitting there and decided it would be really amusing to take each one and scoop the water up in the boots from the channel where it was running fast. We then put the water-filled boots back in the lobby, so when uncle and grand-parent came back out to return to work they put there feet into their Wellingtons. As a result they were not pleased at getting very wet feet! Amusing for a very short time as both grandmother and father gave us a good hiding which we never forgot! I can't think this incident was repeated but it sticks in my memory!

My mother had been a nurse before she married my father in the late '40's. She had worked at Bedford Hospital. She had kept in contact with the hospital  after she got married.  I was taken to quite  few events at the hospital, usually held in Rye Close, which I believe is, or was, the private ward. Thinking back I don't remember any of my other brothers going with us.  Generally they had an annual Christmas party for the children of staff, past and present. My mother kept in contact with one lady, Sister Watson. I have no recollection of her Christian name, as she was always referred to as either Sister Watson or 'Watty.' All this would explain why I know South Wing Hospital so intimately as an adult. I have done several shifts as a carer and support worker in that hospital usually on Weller Wing and elsewhere, working with both mental patients and those with varying degrees of learning disability. I imagine I get my abilities for this work from my mother. 

One particular Christmas we went to the Christmas party in Rye Close and in the front entrance there was a quite amazing decoration which included a model of the Moot Hall which is in Elstow, the village just outside Bedford which is associated with John Bunyan (author to, amongst other books, "The Pilgrim's Progress.") This model, about the size I suppose of a doll's house, had windows in it which had been cut out and then the inside had lights which shone through the windows. Well little John saw this model and immediately decided that he wanted it! I presume I kept on and on about this model Moot Hall, to such an extent that I was given it! I imagine it would have been given it because I kept going on about it and it was far easier to give in than refuse!

Watty quite often came to tea at the farm. As far as I can remember she lived in a flat in Kempston, which is a town bordering on Bedford. I think the flat over-looked Kempston Park and you went up some steps to the front door. Anyway, on one occasion when she came to tea we must have gone into the garden at Malting Farm (which was quite large and had a magnificent double-trunked sycamore tree in the centre of the lawn which has since been cut down due to the fact that it became unsafe, sadly. Due no doubt to decay or something.) In the garden, somewhere near the lawn, were a couple of plinths for urns. The urns presumably had been broken or something or moved elsewhere. I think one had survived and had plants in. Anyway, one of these plinthss was reasonably low and on this particular afternoon Watty decided she needed to have a rest and sat on one of the plinths. Young John,  had quite a way with words and descriptions had to point out that this elderly lady looked as if she was sitting on the toilet, much to the amusement (or not, I should think!) of all and sundry!  Children, as I know with having my own, have a way of coming out with things which their parents wished that they didn't. No doubt this was one such time. Another was when my mother went to a shop along the main road going into the centre of Bedford. This was to a  shop which sold all manner of sewing and knitting items called I seem to remember Elsa Currah. My mother did a lot of knitting and sewing so perhaps she had gone in the shop to buy knitting wool or a dress-pattern.  I doubt very much if it's still there. Anyway, the lady who either ran it or was an assistant in there had a rather unfortunate facial feature, quite a heavy moustache. Some older ladies do unfortunately have facial hair and do nothing to either hide it with make-up or even attempt to remove it. This young boy saw this and had to come out and say, in quite a loud voice which I'm sure she must have heard, something  like ' Look! That lady's got a moustache!'  as well as any other customers, who would have been in the shop at the time and my mother took me by the arm quite firmly and dragged me out of the shop, no doubt in a lot of embarrassment.

I've never been able to point to one particular event which got me interested in theatre. Being a farming family we didn't have any connection with theatre in any way. I remember being taken to pantomimes at various stages of my childhood. We went to pantomimes in the West End and if my memory serves to one at the County Theatre in Bedford, in Midland Road, which had been the venue of Bedford repertory theatre company up until it's demise in the late 1950's or early '60's. It later became a Mecca bingo hall and is now run by an evangelical church called the Mount Zion Church.  I think this was a pantomime of  'Alice In Wonderland' and was amazingly on ice. I think I saw another pantomime based on the 'Alice' books somewhere in London which had Frankie Howard in and he seemed to play more than one character, including the Mad Hatter. Don't ask me where the theatre was. We also went to a circus, probably Bertrum Mills or Chipperfield's which was put on somewhere like Olympia. Where the Horse of the Year show would have been staged. I remember we must have gone with my grandmother Ferriman. She had a love of hats, and made of raffia, with wide brims and quite striking. These were worn on all outings including church on Sunday. On this occasion when we'd gone to London we had to use the Underground and we were standing waiting for a train to come into the station. Whenever this happens, there is nearly always quite  draught as the train comes out of the tunnel and draws up to the platform. The wind caused my grandmother's hat to be blown off and it landed on the train tracks and was run over and completely destroyed by the wheels of the train! No doubt my grandmother was upset by the incident but I have no further recollection of the incident.

Watty took me to London one Christmas. I don't think my brothers came with us. We went to see 'Peter Pan' which was staged every year for decades at the Scala Theatre. I think this was in Covent Garden somewhere but is sadly no more. I was frightened apparently by the scene with the pirates and Captain Hook in and where some very loud cannons were fired and there was supposed to be lots of smoke and as I say loud explosions. I loved the fact that Peter Pan actually flew across the stage but had no idea at the time how this was achieved. I also remember that in the interval we had tea brought to us and served in the auditorium on a tray which was quite a  treat. I doubt that you'd be allowed to do this today, considering all the 'Health and Safety' regulations we have to contend with now.

Giving Blood

I had a letter in the post  this morning from my doctor's surgery, Ashfield  Medical Centre , telling me that they had made an appointment for me to have a blood test and my blood pressure done at the surgery. I'm not used to having an appointment pre-booked like this. You usually have to make such appointments yourself, which can generally be quite difficult as you have to ring the surgery the same day and it can take some time to get through on the phone during busy periods. I presume you get an automatic blood test and blood pressure check after so many months if you have a long-term health issue such as a heart condition as as I have. We changed our doctor's surgery because at the previous one we had a couple of issues, one being  the receptionist not dealing with personal details particularly confidentially when you went in to make an appointment.  I really object to having everyone waiting hearing my conversation when speaking at the reception-desk. I do recall when I worked for the N.H.S. (for the Learning Disability Service in Bedfordshire.) client confidentiality being a priority. So we transferred to Ashfield Medical Centre and have been with them around a year or so now and have had no problems.

I'll be honest and admit that I'm not good at giving blood. I can't think of many people who actually do, or admit that they do. I don't particularly like needles, and certainly when they're stuck into my arm, or, indeed, any part of my anatomy if it comes to that. Generally, if I have to have a jab, say, for 'flu, then I don't have a problem. It might be like a slight bee sting, a sort of tingle in the arm, but when it comes to having to give blood, then that is an altogether different ball-game, kettle of fish, call it what you will. I think this started when I lived in Bedford and had to go to Bedford Hospital to give blood for a test and it was a fasting blood test, meaning I wasn't supposed to eat for a good 12 hours beforehand. And it was early morning, which didn't help, so I was feeling hungry when I arrived at the hospital. I gave the sample and that bit was easy. I felt slightly queasy and left the clinic too quickly. I should have waited before leaving, but was really in too much of a hurry to go home. When I got outside I think the fresh air hit me suddenly. I found I had to sit down on a low wall in the carpark, but I didn't remain seated for long because I found myself keeling over and collapsing on the ground, with a mouthful of gravel in my mouth. At that precise moment an ambulance arrived in the hospital grounds and I could hear footsteps approaching as a group of paramedics came over to me to find out what was the matter. I think I had blacked out. I was taken into a room in the hospital and tended to and eventually was taken to the Accident and Emergency department at South Wing Hospital at Bedford and checked over and after a while went home. It was somewhat embarrasing, to say the least as I'm, not used to being fussed over like I was and being the centre of things.

On one occasion at the doctor's surgery in Bedford I was made to feel as if I had a major problem and was almost a trouble-maker when the nurse had problems finding a vein in my arm and the fact that I was liable to pass out because she was taking so long to take the blood from my arm, and that she had to get a second nurse in to help. I do find it easier if I'm laying down when they do this, so that if I do start to pass out I am at least laying down.

At our old doctor's surgery they realised that there was a problem with me giving blood because I apparently have narrow veins, making it difficult to extract blood, even after tapping a vein, getting me to drink plenty (as dehydration will make veins difficult to find.) and eventually using a needle designed for taking blood from babies! They had one of the doctors in their practice who was particularly good at taking blood, which is unusual as this job is usually done by the nurses in the surgery.

When I first had my heart attack and was in the C.C.U. (Coronary Care Unit) at Bedford Hospital I had to give blood several times a day. They had real difficulties getting a vein up, trying to take it from my arm, in the crook of my elbow and even said they could try in my hand or my foot, which I refused. I think it would be really unpleasant if it was from my hand. By the end of the week I spent in hospital my arm was black and blue due to the blood being taken, and looked more as if I had been bruised! The strange thing is I never seem to have any problems when they put a canula in the back of my hand or wrist when I've been in hospital, as you would imagine that that would be more uncomfortable than merely taking blood. I think the problem with giving blood is when the nurse takes ages and fiddles around, sticks the needle in, leaves the thing in a vein for what seems like ages then takes it out, then says she can't get any blood, then tries in another part of my arm, which is when I start to feel really queasy and start to feel faint.