"I also communicated
with people using the useful “text to many” system (not all of which I’ve
kept). The replies say a lot about my
various friends and relations.”
Tuesday 8 April 2025 07.22 – RVI
It’s the hope that kills you.
If someone had said “This will take a fortnight”
then I could have got myself and things organised. As it is just hanging about waiting and not
knowing is depressing.
Little Rosa the cleaner goes about her work singing
a huge variety of songs, mostly the first verse and chorus, in exactly the same
way. “Final Countdown” and “Oh Boy” and
“I am the very model of a modern major general” come out in exactly the same
Geordie lilt. She makes me smile.
I miss my things.
I miss my garden. There’s so much
I want to do. And that includes sitting
doing nothing in my garden. But it’s not
doing nothing. It’s getting fresh air
and sunshine and watching and listening to the birds, and cats.
Mrs Leftfoot says (and I suspect Middlesister feels
the same) that I should get away and have a rest “after all this”.
NO
I want to stay at home, hermitise and
recuperate.
I’m fed up of filling my
time here reading and knitting.
I want
to do that, and iron and sew and other things, watch tv and listen to podcasts
in my own home.
Things need planting, things need potting on, things
need doing and I need to do them.
I can get two radio stations on my phone: Tyneside
Hospital Radio and Pride.
Both mostly
music. Cher’s “A Man After Midnight2 is
all very well but I’d really appreciate BBCRadio4 or even 5; some intelligent
spoken word. Pride has the better music
(89.2FM)
07.55
The day shift are here. Handover time. Let’s hope the promise to chase the
specialist plastics nurse practitioner is fulfilled.
Texts 08/04/2025
08.27 Miss Doozer – There was a big accident on
Hadrian Road yesterday. Not helping you
and Ferretfingers getting home. I feel
sorry for the junior. Bot-all use when
Ferretfingers’ case is so complex. Maybe
he learnt something from you. We must
hope x
08.28 Miss Doozer – Everything crossed for you
today.
08.32 to Miss Doozer – Thanks. I’ve reached a state of resignation. If I’d known it would take this long I’d have
packed every available pair of knickers.
08.33 Miss Doozer – I can pop up with some M&S
comfies if you give me you give me your size…
08.39 to Miss Doozer – Thanks but no thanks. I’ll pick more up next time I’m home. Or go down to M&S when Fester next
visits, it will make a change from watching him read the grauniad.
10.41 to Many – Mrs OsteoConsultant, Snr Sister,
Staff + another nurse have been in enmasse.
Vac dressing off & wound looked at, photos emailed to
colleague. Wet vac to back on until
Thursday as there is still a blood clot (albeit reduced). There is a ‘plan from microbiology’ & a
possibility of going home with a dry vac dressing if they can get guaranteed
district nurse support. No idea when he’ll be seen on Thursday so I shall have
to stay here. If/when we get home it
will take months.
11.08 to Mrs Springfield – He’s happy with his
tablet watching CBBC & other strange channels with ancient gameshows
(William G Stewart!). I’m reading and
knitting.
11.29 to Middlesister – Ferretfingers saying “I
farted” & me saying “The polite way is ‘I broke wind’” reminded me of
something. Do you remember one Xmas Dad
coming into the living room and saying “Phew!
Someone’s split the cheese”? I
can’t have made that up surely?
11.37 Middlesister – I thought he said “someone’s
split their finger” which is even stranger!x
12.43 Mrs Leftfoot – Oh no. I’m so sorry Ben. Apart from the obvious frustration, that’s
not good news to deal with.
12.47 Basoukiboy – Wow. Well, there’s a plan of sorts at least. It’s in everyone’s interest to get him out so
I imagine mountains will be moved to make it happen. The chickens can look after themselves. Not the best news but not worst either. Shout if you need owt…
13.37 to Middlesister – No but my bum did & then
it turned the radio on. I’ve emailed you
photos of Ferretfingers’ dressings, machines etc.
15.43 Middlesister – That explains the noises! Got the photos, very interesting xx
15.53 to Mrs Fitz – Went home briefly this
afternoon. Checked emails & there
was one from Peter Ceylon concerned that he hadn’t had one from me for a
while. He must have felt us talking
about him last night.x
18.02 Mrs Fitz – Scary, this mindreading stuff.
Tuesday 8 April 2025 21.50 - RVI
About 9.30 this morning Mrs OsteoConsultant, a
senior sister, a staff nurse and nurse assistant arrived.
The dressing was cut off and the wound
exposed and photographed, and photos emailed to colleagues.
“I’ve been having sleepless nights about
this“ says Mrs OsteoConsultant “But we have a plan from Micropathology and
provided we can get guaranteed District Nurse care, you could go home.”
I suggested that we live only five minutes’
walk from our GP Surgery.
“Don’t you
dare!” says the senior sister “He needs District Nurse visits.”
Then the plastics person replied to her email
photo that there was still too much blood clot in the wound so he’s back on the
wet vac dressing to be reviewed on Thursday.
Mrs OsteoConsultant said when he gets home he can attend her clinics at
the Freeman.
I asked how long it would
all take? Weeks? Months?
“Months.”
I mentioned his respite weekend in May.
She shrugged (she sounds and looks Spanish so
it was a very eloquent shrug).
I’ve not
yet given up on going away at the end of June.
I got the impression the ladies are not impressed with the specialist
plastics nurse practitioner not turning up.
I phoned home, spoke to Thunderthighs.
His father rang when he back in from
shopping.
He came in at one and I got a
taxi home. Sorted out underwear and bits
to bring back. Filled the bird
feeders. Watered the marrow seedlings. Loaded and set off the washer with my things
for Thunderthighs to hang out once he’s brought his things in.
Thankgoodness for the dry weather.
Then up to the office to sort out emails,
starting out by threshing out the chaff.
Amongst the good stuff was one from lovely Peter Ceylon, of whom Mrs Fitz
and I spoke last night; he was concerned
that he hadn’t had a blog link email for a while.
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