Early Mornings

(Monday)  A not quite-so-cold morning when I took Alfie out across Eaglestone Park. Yesterday I got a sudden 'hit' in my chest. Not an angina attack, but it made me feel very tired. Apparently this was likely to happen, due to the stents. Just made me feel sleepy and this went on for the rest of the day. I let Alfie off his lead and he did his usual running-about bit. He had to explore in a very over-grown area along the path. He got himself caught in the brambles and thorny bits of over-growth and I had to rescue him. His coat got caught in the thorns and I had to pull it off his tail. Very undignified for him, but once I put him back of the ground he ran off, none the worse for the whole incident. We did a longer walk, ending up on the Redway near the hospital.

I have had to fill in a form sent from the D.W.P. (Department of Work and Pensions), regarding Carol's P.I.P. (Personal Independence Payment.) I assumed this would be stopped when she passed away, but they sent one for to me which I had help filling in when I went to see Alison Corbett the other week, who is the caseworker from C.A.B. (Citizen's Advice Bureau), who helped me fill it in. They have sent exactly the same form out again. It makes me wonder whether they've lost the original form. I think I might ring them to find out what exactly is going on. I may be entitled to some sort of payment, but it's not clear why or how much.

Later. I've been trying to get though on the hotline to the D.W.P. in connection with the letter I mentioned in the above. You have to go through about three menus and then select the appropriate number, but all you seem to get is a really horrible electronic version of Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons' on a sort of loop and an irritating woman's voice telling you to 'hold on, or ring later. All our agents are busy. . .' Why is it so annoying? Just want to speak to a human. I don't want to fill in the form, post it back and then . . . a couple of weeks later, get another letter with exactly the same form in it, to fill in and get the same response. Is there a robot at the other end, or  computer at least just sending out letters endlessly? Probably not, but it does seem like it somehow.

I've given Alfie a bath this afternoon. He makes an awful fuss and I don't think he likes getting wet. I ran the hot water before I put him in and then gave him a good shampoo. In actual fact he loves the attention he gets. I had to make sure the bathroom door is well and truly shut otherwise he would run all over the house, attempting to dry himself. I put a towel on the floor of the bathroom and used  plastic jug to scoop up the water in the bath to rinse off the soap. Fortunately it's a low-suds brand and so there aren't too many bubbles to rinse. He does attempt to climb out of the bath but I lift him out and towel him dry as best as possible before he shakes himself. Then, once he is at least partially dry, I let him out of the bathroom and he heads downstairs to the lounge. It doesn't take too long for him to be completely dry and I spend some time brushing him. As a result his coat looks silky and soft and the lovely wave comes back in his coat, giving the impression that he's been permed! All the fuss in the bath and he really loves being brushed.

Later Still. I have tried several times more to get some response from the hotline for P.I.P. Just giving up and will give it another try tomorrow morning.

Tuesday Morning. I'm sitting here on my armchair, with Alfie to the right of me, sitting on the arm of the sofa, watching my every move. He making the vague clucking noises he makes, because he's very intent at going out for his routine walk. It's actually 7.03 a.m., and I can see that it's relatively light outside, so I really have no choice but to get ready to take him out. I will have to leave him in the lounge while I get ready, put my shoes on and my jacket and make sure I have doggy bags in my pocket along with my gloves and iPhone. It shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes and then go into the kitchen to get his lead. We walked a good deal further than we usually do. I don't think Alfie minds. He just loves being out and about.

Later. I did attempt to get through on the D.W.P. helpline regarding the P.I.P. I went through all the confounded menus and then got the horrible 'Four Seasons' music but there was absolutely no way I was ever going to get through to anyone to speak to, so I decided to give up and complete the form and post it off, which is what I have now done and it's gone. I still can't work out why they've sent me another of the same forms to fill it. I still get a sneaking suspicion the first one got lost somewhere and they don't like to admit it.

I'm keeping a watch on the matter which builds up under Alfie's eyes. (I was going to say 'keep a close eye on it,' but thought the better of it.) He knows when I get the water from the sink (put in an empty  plastic ice-cream container), a towel off the front hall radiator and a ball of cotton wool. I have to hold him on my knee. It seems both eyes are looking clearer than before we went to the vet's to have the large accumulation of this stuff removed. But he is a real wriggler and growls at me. For a little dog, he's hard to hold onto. I don't know whether he'd bight me, but I'm not prepared to find out as he has sharp teeth! I got rid of a large piece of this concretion (for want of a better work.) yesterday, so it is working.

Another Few Days In Hospital

We were hoping that Carol might be discharged from hospital today. I usually make sure that I'm on the ward when the doctors do their rounds. They usually arrive between 10-10.30. Carol's temperature is still causing concern. But her blood sugar level is now at a safer level. The results of the blood tests to show up signs of infection seem somewhat ambiguous. The doctor said that she would need to remain on the ward until at least Monday. Not something that either of us wants to hear, but it is better that Carol remains in hospital where she can be observed and have a better chance of this thing being resolved than going home and the infection getting worse and then having to rush back into hospital and the whole sequence of events being repeated. She has numb hands. She has problems holding anything. She says that she can hardly feel anything and it can be difficult to even grip some objects, finding it difficult to do simple things like opening packets or holding a pen. The doctor said it is most likely a side effect of the chemotherapy, even though the 12 cycles were completed almost three weeks ago. The doctor said that a specialist oncology doctor would know exactly what was going on as she didn't have the expertise requited to know what all this meant.

We're having to rely on benefits until Carol gets back to work. Carol has already got what is called a P.I.P. (Personal Independence Payment) and we're in the process of applying for Housing Benefit and what is called E.S.A. (Employment Support Allowance). We got a form (it takes a lot of patience and time and effort to fill these in. Most of them are done on-line. The Housing Benefit one was, as well as the others. What happens to those who don't have a computer or internet access?) which required a cancer specialist to sign the back page. I went to the Macmillan unit first, as I assumed that they would be able to help, but no. Not their fault, but I was then sent to the nurses's desk within the unit, they couldn't help. I even asked at the nurses desk within Ward 22, but they couldn't sign it without the whole form being signed. I even asked one of the doctors who came on the ward round yesterday, but because they're not cancer specialists, they could oblige. By now I was getting annoyed. I had been told by the stoma nurse who came to see Carol yesterday and she had said that any doctor could sign the form, but as I found out, this wasn't the case. In the end I went to the oncology department, where Carol had her 12 cycles of chemotherapy. One of the nurses, who hadn't been on duty when we'd been in there, made the effort to look at the files they had and managed to fill in the form and sign it so, at last I could get it posted off.

On top of all this we got a letter from the D.W.P. (Department of Work and Pensions) that they needed a new medical certificate as the old one is about to expire. So I rang Ashfield Medical Centre. Now, you would think that it would be a simple matter of getting the doctor to sign the relevant form and date it accordingly, but we have to wait for him to ring on Monday morning for me (or Carol, if she's at home then) to explain what we want and THEN go and collect the wretched form, probably on Tuesday afternoon and THEN post it off to the relevant department. WHY couldn't this be done on Friday when I rang? It seems they are making things more difficult than is completely necessary.