The blood tests are through. It's definitely not a wheat allergy. The hunt goes on. Next week I'm off to the hospital for a scan. Let's hope that comes up with the answer.
Meanwhile we're hoping to do a bit of celebrating today. It's our wedding anniversary. Our 37th. If the rain holds off we are hoping to go away for a day or two. Just to Kendal. It's not far from here but sufficient to give us a change of scene. We also could do with doing some clothes shopping. Morecambe is very poor for clothes. Lancaster is too chaotic & not much better for clothes, though there is a lot more choice if you are young & trendy - no doubt a reflection of the number of students at the nearby university - but we're no longer so young these days.
However, as I came on line, our home page setting gives today's news & I see much of Cumbria is flooded after last night's torrential downpour. The road to Kendal often floods as the river Kent enters into estuary of Morecambe Bay, especially if there is a high tide as well, pushing the flood waters back up river. The day is overcast. I half expect more rain is yet to come. We may yet decide to stay put.
Even so we will at least go out for a meal. There's a bottle of bubbly on our wine racks. And above all, we can rejoice in the fact my abdomen is behaving itself so far today.
Thursday 30 August 2012
Wednesday 29 August 2012
Sudden demise
There has clearly been a death in our garden. Just by the bird bath, a pile of silvery grey feathers lies on the lawn - a collared dove I suspect. Who the aggressor was I've no idea. There's no sign of a body, but so many feathers must mean a death. I wonder if the peregrine falcon is back. Or is it one of the numerous cats that use our garden as lavatory & short cut through the gardens?
Some life does remain. I step outside & nearly step on a huge olive green frog - relative to the baby one I found among the potatoes I wonder? He's clearly enjoying the downpour of the morning.
Our one ray of hope is with the tomatoes. We were saying to each other they would never ripen this year. Al, our gardener, has been trying to reassure the Fox it's due to the abnormal weather pattern rather than anything the Fox may, or may not, have done. Al's own tomatoes, grown in the greenhouse, are not doing well this year. He's even had to heat the greenhouse to get anything at all hopeful. Our tomatoes are outside growing in a raised bed on the patio. It's quite amazing they're still looking healthy when you consider the gales, storms, chills, floods they've had to endure.Then yesterday I spot one that has changed to a more orangey colour. Perhaps we won't have to live on a diet of green tomato tarts after all. What we really need is a spell of sustained sunshine and warmth. From the looks of the rain coming down once more today, that is unlikely.
Some life does remain. I step outside & nearly step on a huge olive green frog - relative to the baby one I found among the potatoes I wonder? He's clearly enjoying the downpour of the morning.
Our one ray of hope is with the tomatoes. We were saying to each other they would never ripen this year. Al, our gardener, has been trying to reassure the Fox it's due to the abnormal weather pattern rather than anything the Fox may, or may not, have done. Al's own tomatoes, grown in the greenhouse, are not doing well this year. He's even had to heat the greenhouse to get anything at all hopeful. Our tomatoes are outside growing in a raised bed on the patio. It's quite amazing they're still looking healthy when you consider the gales, storms, chills, floods they've had to endure.Then yesterday I spot one that has changed to a more orangey colour. Perhaps we won't have to live on a diet of green tomato tarts after all. What we really need is a spell of sustained sunshine and warmth. From the looks of the rain coming down once more today, that is unlikely.
Tuesday 28 August 2012
An old friend
I'm sorry I've not been back before. My present ill-health makes life difficult. Even on the good days I am so tired from the lack of sleep from the bad nights that I'm late up. By the time of done the essential chores the day has gone.
On one of my visits to the doctor, it was suggested that maybe the anti-inflammatory drugs I take are losing their effectiveness as I've been on them so long, so maybe I should try not taking them. When I was so painfilled last week we decided that maybe I should try this course of action. Result - the abdominal pains seemed to have grown & be more erratically spaced, and now I also have to contend with a higher level of pain in my knees. I've gone back to the NSAIDs. Still, next week it's time for the scan & later this week I should get the results of the wheat allergy blood test.
Life hasn't entirely ground to a halt. The sun is shining for the moment so I've nervously hung out the washing. Even if only a couple of sheets dry it will have been worth it. I'm now writing with one eye glancing regularly out of the window, especially if the sky darkens.
Yesterday we popped out to a pub we haven't visited much of late. We went quite often when we first came her, but since then it has changed hands, going downhill in the process. It's also never been a very convenient pub, with its uneven floors & upstairs loos. All this hardly surprising when you realise that the pub dates from the early 18th century. recently a new landlord has taken over & he's been doing big things.
First he started with adding a huge conservatory. This means there's now a flat (except the ramp on the way through the door) entrance & disabled loo on the same floor. The views from the conservatory are spectacular. It looks across the river Lune to the city of Lancaster & the Pennine hills beyond.
His next project is a children's play area. Then it's going to be some accommodation units.
One year, a French friend came to stay with us. It was November. We took him to this pub. He thought it was fabulous. The food there was good in those days. But he was awe of the age and that sense of a placed frequented by so many over the centuries. On top of that, we actually went on November 5. In Lancaster every year there's a big bonfire display & fireworks at the castle. From just outside this pub he had a magnificent vantage point without any of the hassle of the city crowds.
The other great joy of this pub is that it is on the estuary of the Lune. Sometimes, when the tides come in, the waters cover the road making it impassable. This meant, even in times when opening hours were still regulated, this was one pub, if you were there, and cut off from being able to leave, the pub just kept serving. The perfect excuse for a longer stay.
It's also a great place for watching the birds, the feathered variety. Swallows & martins swoop all over. In the river yesterday a shag or cormorant was busy fishing. Looking out gives us a great sense of peace, good for the soul.
It sometimes takes us aback how close to the open countryside we live. It is very suburban here. Yet only a few hundred yards away you can be on the promenade looking out to sea, or be surrounded by open farm fields. The best of everything.
On one of my visits to the doctor, it was suggested that maybe the anti-inflammatory drugs I take are losing their effectiveness as I've been on them so long, so maybe I should try not taking them. When I was so painfilled last week we decided that maybe I should try this course of action. Result - the abdominal pains seemed to have grown & be more erratically spaced, and now I also have to contend with a higher level of pain in my knees. I've gone back to the NSAIDs. Still, next week it's time for the scan & later this week I should get the results of the wheat allergy blood test.
Life hasn't entirely ground to a halt. The sun is shining for the moment so I've nervously hung out the washing. Even if only a couple of sheets dry it will have been worth it. I'm now writing with one eye glancing regularly out of the window, especially if the sky darkens.
Yesterday we popped out to a pub we haven't visited much of late. We went quite often when we first came her, but since then it has changed hands, going downhill in the process. It's also never been a very convenient pub, with its uneven floors & upstairs loos. All this hardly surprising when you realise that the pub dates from the early 18th century. recently a new landlord has taken over & he's been doing big things.
First he started with adding a huge conservatory. This means there's now a flat (except the ramp on the way through the door) entrance & disabled loo on the same floor. The views from the conservatory are spectacular. It looks across the river Lune to the city of Lancaster & the Pennine hills beyond.
His next project is a children's play area. Then it's going to be some accommodation units.
One year, a French friend came to stay with us. It was November. We took him to this pub. He thought it was fabulous. The food there was good in those days. But he was awe of the age and that sense of a placed frequented by so many over the centuries. On top of that, we actually went on November 5. In Lancaster every year there's a big bonfire display & fireworks at the castle. From just outside this pub he had a magnificent vantage point without any of the hassle of the city crowds.
The other great joy of this pub is that it is on the estuary of the Lune. Sometimes, when the tides come in, the waters cover the road making it impassable. This meant, even in times when opening hours were still regulated, this was one pub, if you were there, and cut off from being able to leave, the pub just kept serving. The perfect excuse for a longer stay.
It's also a great place for watching the birds, the feathered variety. Swallows & martins swoop all over. In the river yesterday a shag or cormorant was busy fishing. Looking out gives us a great sense of peace, good for the soul.
It sometimes takes us aback how close to the open countryside we live. It is very suburban here. Yet only a few hundred yards away you can be on the promenade looking out to sea, or be surrounded by open farm fields. The best of everything.
Thursday 23 August 2012
Home
Home. It's amazing how comforting that little word can be.
Yesterday was a real wash-out of a day for us. The abdominal pains I have been having most nights continued throughout the day. All plans went out of the window.
I rose early, not because I wanted to, but because I'd been told that that morning the surgery was going to release some more dates for seeing my regular(?) GP. I've got the date for the scan now. He'd told me as soon as I had that date I was to make an appointment to see him to decide what next to do. So reluctantly I got up to be on the phone for 8am. I've managed to get a date about 10 days after the scan.
I had been intending to make some ragu to have with some home-made pappardelle. It took me until 11am before I could face making the ragu. The pappardelle I just abandoned & used some dry pasta instead.
The rest of the day was spent writhing in pain, despite popping anti-spasmodics & painkillers as though they were sweeties. I tried for an afternoon nap but was too uncomfortable to sleep or even relax. In the end I got up. The Fox completed the cooking of the early dinner in the hope I could then have an early night if I wanted it. I was indeed in bed by 9.30pm. The pain eventually eased about 4am.
All this has convinced me there is no point in making plans at the moment. Even the idea of deciding what to cook, making food shopping lists, is questionable unless it's for food the Fox can easily take over. The idea of going away, mooted a few weeks ago, has gone out of the window. The last thing I want to do when there is a risk of being this uncomfortable is to be away from home. Usually I'm always game for something different, for a few days away if not a longer holiday, but not now. Now I want the security blanket of being home, with the Fox, surrounded by the comfort of the familiar.
As for the Fox, I watch the strain & tension grow in his face as he worries & frets over me. I'm not sure if my medical problem isn't having a more adverse effect on him than on me. But then I think that is often the carer's lot, the result of the sheer frustration of not being able to do anything to help. The cared for is just too sick, too uncomfortable, to care.
It is particularly frustrating when, at this stage, we still don't know the enemy we're fighting. Even if the diagnosis when it comes is dire, at least we can then adjust to it, know what to expect, know what can be done to help ease the situation at least, make the most of it. The uncertainty is almost the worst thing of all. Roll on September & the scan.
At least today my abdomen is feeling more like itself. Today I could easily get on with sorting food out. The only problem is that yesterday I was in such a state I've not bothered getting things out of the freezer or soaking pulses, ready to get on with the cooking. And will I still feel the same later when things have thawed / soaked?
Meanwhile we're off to the dentist. I'm finally going to get that tooth seen to or at least looked at to decide what has to be done. I suspect it's another cap, another expense. We'll see.
Yesterday was a real wash-out of a day for us. The abdominal pains I have been having most nights continued throughout the day. All plans went out of the window.
I rose early, not because I wanted to, but because I'd been told that that morning the surgery was going to release some more dates for seeing my regular(?) GP. I've got the date for the scan now. He'd told me as soon as I had that date I was to make an appointment to see him to decide what next to do. So reluctantly I got up to be on the phone for 8am. I've managed to get a date about 10 days after the scan.
I had been intending to make some ragu to have with some home-made pappardelle. It took me until 11am before I could face making the ragu. The pappardelle I just abandoned & used some dry pasta instead.
The rest of the day was spent writhing in pain, despite popping anti-spasmodics & painkillers as though they were sweeties. I tried for an afternoon nap but was too uncomfortable to sleep or even relax. In the end I got up. The Fox completed the cooking of the early dinner in the hope I could then have an early night if I wanted it. I was indeed in bed by 9.30pm. The pain eventually eased about 4am.
All this has convinced me there is no point in making plans at the moment. Even the idea of deciding what to cook, making food shopping lists, is questionable unless it's for food the Fox can easily take over. The idea of going away, mooted a few weeks ago, has gone out of the window. The last thing I want to do when there is a risk of being this uncomfortable is to be away from home. Usually I'm always game for something different, for a few days away if not a longer holiday, but not now. Now I want the security blanket of being home, with the Fox, surrounded by the comfort of the familiar.
As for the Fox, I watch the strain & tension grow in his face as he worries & frets over me. I'm not sure if my medical problem isn't having a more adverse effect on him than on me. But then I think that is often the carer's lot, the result of the sheer frustration of not being able to do anything to help. The cared for is just too sick, too uncomfortable, to care.
It is particularly frustrating when, at this stage, we still don't know the enemy we're fighting. Even if the diagnosis when it comes is dire, at least we can then adjust to it, know what to expect, know what can be done to help ease the situation at least, make the most of it. The uncertainty is almost the worst thing of all. Roll on September & the scan.
At least today my abdomen is feeling more like itself. Today I could easily get on with sorting food out. The only problem is that yesterday I was in such a state I've not bothered getting things out of the freezer or soaking pulses, ready to get on with the cooking. And will I still feel the same later when things have thawed / soaked?
Meanwhile we're off to the dentist. I'm finally going to get that tooth seen to or at least looked at to decide what has to be done. I suspect it's another cap, another expense. We'll see.
Tuesday 21 August 2012
Bit of movement
I'm in the midst of digging out some potatoes when my eyes get distracted by a bit of movement. What's that? A spider? No, there between the bags of growing potatoes is a tiny, perfectly-formed, frog. It's only about the size of my fingernail. Clearly this damp patch, right next to the bog garden, is its home. I go back to my bran-tub hunt potatoes and leave him in peace.
Saturday 18 August 2012
The easy life
The world is very grey. We're back in the world of rain with occasional breaks. I'm not the only one on holiday. The sun too has gone on holiday.
In this year's storms our garden has suffered a certain amount of damage. Our trellis is very rickety. It's come apart in places with the result one section comes forward unattached. The collared doves & wood-pigeons have found this great. Now they can sit on the part of the trellis that leans forward & eat the seeds from the bird feeders dangling from the next section of the trellis. It's not that we entirely object to this, but they do frighten off all the little birds we'd much prefer to see. These big guys can be awful bullies. They even fight off the magpies!
The Fox has fastened the section that was leaning forward back. I see, though, today the wood-pigeons have found another seat to sit on to reach the dangling feeders. I dare say the doves will soon be following their example.
The other noticeable damage also affects our birds. In the last lot of winds the roof blew off the free-standing bird table where we usually put our food scraps for our feathered friends. Or at least those scraps we think may appeal to them. Now there is no shelter either from overflying birds of prey or from the rain. The trays on the feeder flood with rainwater making the food contents look very unattractive & unappealing. I suspect before long we're going to have to find a new stand for the birds.
This entry is maybe a reflection of the fact I'm trying to have a quiet morning so I'll have some energy for this evening's party. It's very stressful deliberately trying to relax. Instantly I think of all those things I want to do, almost inevitably requiring a certain amount of exercise & effort in the process, which I mustn't do if I'm going to be fit for the party. So far I've had a shower, to make sure my hair is shining clean - a silvery halo on top of my head - & listened to a bit of radio with a bit of looking wistfully out of the window. Next I'll try a bit of jigsaw before attempting a nap.
I hope the party is worth all my preparatory (non)effort. We'll probably end up staying only an hour or so at the end of the day. We'll see how it goes. Much will depend upon who we bump into there.
In this year's storms our garden has suffered a certain amount of damage. Our trellis is very rickety. It's come apart in places with the result one section comes forward unattached. The collared doves & wood-pigeons have found this great. Now they can sit on the part of the trellis that leans forward & eat the seeds from the bird feeders dangling from the next section of the trellis. It's not that we entirely object to this, but they do frighten off all the little birds we'd much prefer to see. These big guys can be awful bullies. They even fight off the magpies!
The Fox has fastened the section that was leaning forward back. I see, though, today the wood-pigeons have found another seat to sit on to reach the dangling feeders. I dare say the doves will soon be following their example.
The other noticeable damage also affects our birds. In the last lot of winds the roof blew off the free-standing bird table where we usually put our food scraps for our feathered friends. Or at least those scraps we think may appeal to them. Now there is no shelter either from overflying birds of prey or from the rain. The trays on the feeder flood with rainwater making the food contents look very unattractive & unappealing. I suspect before long we're going to have to find a new stand for the birds.
This entry is maybe a reflection of the fact I'm trying to have a quiet morning so I'll have some energy for this evening's party. It's very stressful deliberately trying to relax. Instantly I think of all those things I want to do, almost inevitably requiring a certain amount of exercise & effort in the process, which I mustn't do if I'm going to be fit for the party. So far I've had a shower, to make sure my hair is shining clean - a silvery halo on top of my head - & listened to a bit of radio with a bit of looking wistfully out of the window. Next I'll try a bit of jigsaw before attempting a nap.
I hope the party is worth all my preparatory (non)effort. We'll probably end up staying only an hour or so at the end of the day. We'll see how it goes. Much will depend upon who we bump into there.
Friday 17 August 2012
Holiday break
I'm having a few days holiday. No, I'm not going away. And I'm certainly not going away without the Fox. No, I'm having a few days off cooking.
Today the Fox is doing it. He's doing a chicken pasta bake.
It has to be admitted the Fox only really started cooking when my disability had worsened to the level when I couldn't do all the cooking anymore. At first we ate out a lot or visited the chippy, the only takeaway option in the village we lived in then. Eating out though was expensive & often rather unsatisfactory.
The kitchen in our old flat was tiny. He felt cramped, hardly able to move without hitting into something. There was no way I could be in there with him to show him how to do even basic techniques. At first, he did essentially ready meals, accompanied by tinned or frozen veg. He wasn't very happy, but at least it filled a hole in our stomachs & was in some ways less of an effort for us than having to go out all the time to find unsatisfactory food elsewhere.
Then we moved here. Now we have a dining/kitchen. He has room to move. While I was in hospital having an operation, he concluded that as he would have to do all the cooking at first, he had to move more into real food, made with raw foods. So began his real culinary adventure. Now 10 years on, he's discovered how much he enjoys cooking, how relaxing, creative & satisfying it can be.
This is a source of great relief to me. I no longer need to feel guilty if I don't feel up to cooking or if I need help to complete a meal I've started. Not only is he enjoying doing it, the results are usually so much better than ready meals, eating out at many places or the average takeaway. Indeed the results are usually much more satisfying than many a restaurant meal.
So it is I greeted his eagerness to do some more cooking today with a certain eagerness too. These days he always cooks on Sunday, the day I try to do such chores as bed changing & sorting out the washing - more than enough physical exercise for me these days. It's usually something quick & easy as he too usually tries to get some chores done too eg dusting under furniture which Angie, our cleaner, doesn't do, or a bit in the garden.
He usually does one experimental meal midweek. This week he did a spicy chicken and mint stir-fry. So I am surprised he fancies another cook this week, but fancy he does.
My holiday will continue tomorrow as we are partying. Friends, Fran & Den, are throwing a joint 80th birthday party at the golf club. Fran's birthday was in April whilst Den's will be in December. They decided to have the party midway between the two birthdays & at the weekend as some of their friends are still working but live a distance away. The party is beginning at 5pm. There will be a buffet from around 6pm. We're assuming we'll either have sufficient to eat at the buffet or we will stop at a restaurant on the way home.
Sunday of course will continue my culinary holiday. As usual it will be chore day & the Fox cooking. So by Monday I should be raring to go. It's not often I'm out of the kitchen for so long at a stretch. When we go away is the only real exception.
I confess I've always loved cooking. I also have to admit these days the physical demands involved in doing it are just getting too much for me. Cooking & the laundry are the last few household chores I continue to do. The ironing I can do sat down once everything is organised, so that I will continue. But cooking, much as I love it, does involve a certain amount of standing & moving around. You can't avoid the need to go from fridge to store cupboard to work surfaces to oven to sink, in whatever order is necessary. All that means some standing. I do sit to peel & prepare veg, to stir sauces, to keep an eye on things while they plop to make sure they neither go off the simmer nor boil over, etc, but nonetheless some standing & walking is inevitable.
I can't tell you what a relief it is that the Fox is not only getting some very palatable results but he is enjoying doing it too. I suspect in another year or two, as my condition continues to deteriorate, he is going to have to become the main cook in our house, with me just giving him a helping hand from time to time. As it is I suspects he would like to do more but doesn't like to oust me out of my domain, the kitchen, while I still clearly enjoy cooking myself. It's a difficult situation for any carer, knowing just how much to let a person continue to do, even if they are clearly struggling & it is becoming increasingly dangerous & as well as tiring for them to continue to do whatever it is.
Today the Fox is doing it. He's doing a chicken pasta bake.
It has to be admitted the Fox only really started cooking when my disability had worsened to the level when I couldn't do all the cooking anymore. At first we ate out a lot or visited the chippy, the only takeaway option in the village we lived in then. Eating out though was expensive & often rather unsatisfactory.
The kitchen in our old flat was tiny. He felt cramped, hardly able to move without hitting into something. There was no way I could be in there with him to show him how to do even basic techniques. At first, he did essentially ready meals, accompanied by tinned or frozen veg. He wasn't very happy, but at least it filled a hole in our stomachs & was in some ways less of an effort for us than having to go out all the time to find unsatisfactory food elsewhere.
Then we moved here. Now we have a dining/kitchen. He has room to move. While I was in hospital having an operation, he concluded that as he would have to do all the cooking at first, he had to move more into real food, made with raw foods. So began his real culinary adventure. Now 10 years on, he's discovered how much he enjoys cooking, how relaxing, creative & satisfying it can be.
This is a source of great relief to me. I no longer need to feel guilty if I don't feel up to cooking or if I need help to complete a meal I've started. Not only is he enjoying doing it, the results are usually so much better than ready meals, eating out at many places or the average takeaway. Indeed the results are usually much more satisfying than many a restaurant meal.
So it is I greeted his eagerness to do some more cooking today with a certain eagerness too. These days he always cooks on Sunday, the day I try to do such chores as bed changing & sorting out the washing - more than enough physical exercise for me these days. It's usually something quick & easy as he too usually tries to get some chores done too eg dusting under furniture which Angie, our cleaner, doesn't do, or a bit in the garden.
He usually does one experimental meal midweek. This week he did a spicy chicken and mint stir-fry. So I am surprised he fancies another cook this week, but fancy he does.
My holiday will continue tomorrow as we are partying. Friends, Fran & Den, are throwing a joint 80th birthday party at the golf club. Fran's birthday was in April whilst Den's will be in December. They decided to have the party midway between the two birthdays & at the weekend as some of their friends are still working but live a distance away. The party is beginning at 5pm. There will be a buffet from around 6pm. We're assuming we'll either have sufficient to eat at the buffet or we will stop at a restaurant on the way home.
Sunday of course will continue my culinary holiday. As usual it will be chore day & the Fox cooking. So by Monday I should be raring to go. It's not often I'm out of the kitchen for so long at a stretch. When we go away is the only real exception.
I confess I've always loved cooking. I also have to admit these days the physical demands involved in doing it are just getting too much for me. Cooking & the laundry are the last few household chores I continue to do. The ironing I can do sat down once everything is organised, so that I will continue. But cooking, much as I love it, does involve a certain amount of standing & moving around. You can't avoid the need to go from fridge to store cupboard to work surfaces to oven to sink, in whatever order is necessary. All that means some standing. I do sit to peel & prepare veg, to stir sauces, to keep an eye on things while they plop to make sure they neither go off the simmer nor boil over, etc, but nonetheless some standing & walking is inevitable.
I can't tell you what a relief it is that the Fox is not only getting some very palatable results but he is enjoying doing it too. I suspect in another year or two, as my condition continues to deteriorate, he is going to have to become the main cook in our house, with me just giving him a helping hand from time to time. As it is I suspects he would like to do more but doesn't like to oust me out of my domain, the kitchen, while I still clearly enjoy cooking myself. It's a difficult situation for any carer, knowing just how much to let a person continue to do, even if they are clearly struggling & it is becoming increasingly dangerous & as well as tiring for them to continue to do whatever it is.
Thursday 16 August 2012
Over-reliance
Sorry it's been a while since I last wrote. I did try to settle down to writing on Tuesday. I'd just got onto the Internet when the doorbell went - Al, the gardener. As I knew that would mean inevitable disruption, more than just opening the gate & paying at the end, I just signed off again. Since than it's been back to chores, ironing etc.
At the moment I seem on the go-slow. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it's something to do with the number of disrupted nights I've had of late due to the abdominal pains I've been having. The few days when I'm not woken by pain, I'm just so zonked out I'm most reluctant to move in the morning.
However, here I am today. The summer sun seems to have disappeared again. The temperatures remain surprisingly warm for such overcast breezy days.
On Monday I was shocked to a get a letter from one of our investments. We had been trying to get them to take some action on our behalf. I had had it confirmed by phone that the action had been taken. I asked for confirmation in writing. Imagine my shock to read "We confirm this action has not been done". I hastily rang again. Again on their files the action had been done. Further up the chain of command would have to look into the matter. Later that day I had a phone call from them apologising profusely. The previous letter had been a clerical error. The "not" should have read "now". It was the sort of mistake the spellchecker had failed to notice &, of course, no human had bothered to re-read the letter. Isn't technology wonderful! Yesterday we got a letter confirming the action had indeed been taken.
It's so easy these days to assume spellchecker will pick up any errors. Unfortunately, as in this case, a perfectly valid word may have been written. It can even make grammatical sense. But what a difference a letter can make. In this instance it totally reversed the meaning of the missive.
At the moment I seem on the go-slow. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it's something to do with the number of disrupted nights I've had of late due to the abdominal pains I've been having. The few days when I'm not woken by pain, I'm just so zonked out I'm most reluctant to move in the morning.
However, here I am today. The summer sun seems to have disappeared again. The temperatures remain surprisingly warm for such overcast breezy days.
On Monday I was shocked to a get a letter from one of our investments. We had been trying to get them to take some action on our behalf. I had had it confirmed by phone that the action had been taken. I asked for confirmation in writing. Imagine my shock to read "We confirm this action has not been done". I hastily rang again. Again on their files the action had been done. Further up the chain of command would have to look into the matter. Later that day I had a phone call from them apologising profusely. The previous letter had been a clerical error. The "not" should have read "now". It was the sort of mistake the spellchecker had failed to notice &, of course, no human had bothered to re-read the letter. Isn't technology wonderful! Yesterday we got a letter confirming the action had indeed been taken.
It's so easy these days to assume spellchecker will pick up any errors. Unfortunately, as in this case, a perfectly valid word may have been written. It can even make grammatical sense. But what a difference a letter can make. In this instance it totally reversed the meaning of the missive.
Friday 10 August 2012
More waiting
Once more I'm waiting to hear from the hospital. We went to see the GP yesterday. One blood test still hasn't come back yet, but the others are normal. As the abdominal pains seem to be increasing, both in frequency & intensity, he's decided it's time I went for a scan to see if that shows up anything. If nothing else, we should then be able to eliminate a re-emergence of the cancer I had in 2001. Clearly this department is not as speedy as the Breast Unit as I can expect to wait a few weeks before I hear anything. All this stress is not conducive to relaxing.
At least I can relax over the meal tonight as the Fox is making it - Beef & Sweetcorn Enchilladas. It's sitting in the fridge, all made up, ready to have some grated cheese strewn across it before popping in the oven. It smells good. The Fox reckons he's done something to improve the recipe though what that is is top secret. I have to wait & see. Hopefully it will work.
Oh, by the way I've only just discovered that any comments on my blog are being put direct into a spam file. I do apologise for not welcoming & thanking any readers who have been inspired to make a nice or helpful comment. I'll be looking in the spam file more often now.
At least I can relax over the meal tonight as the Fox is making it - Beef & Sweetcorn Enchilladas. It's sitting in the fridge, all made up, ready to have some grated cheese strewn across it before popping in the oven. It smells good. The Fox reckons he's done something to improve the recipe though what that is is top secret. I have to wait & see. Hopefully it will work.
Oh, by the way I've only just discovered that any comments on my blog are being put direct into a spam file. I do apologise for not welcoming & thanking any readers who have been inspired to make a nice or helpful comment. I'll be looking in the spam file more often now.
Wednesday 8 August 2012
A cause of rejoicing
The weathermen reckon it's a sunny day. They've clearly not looked outside the windows round here. At least it's not raining and it is very mild.
Nonetheless there's sunshine in the Foxes' den. A few minutes before 9am this morning, the phone rang. The hospital with the biopsy results. Typical cyst so there's nothing more to be done, beyond, that is, a recall in a further 4 months' time just to check on things. What a relief! When I hadn't heard yesterday I began to get quite anxious. Clearly they probably tried when we were out doing the food shop, so left it until today before trying again. Whatever the reason, the result is much jubilation in the Foxes' den.
To celebrate we're having some plaice for dinner. It's not often I buy plaice, but for once they were decent sized fillets.
I always associate plaice with my Mum & medical problems. Whenever we were ill as children, my mother's solution for something light & easily digestible to tempt us back to eating solids again, was plaice. She always just seasoned them, dotted them with butter & popped them in the oven - just the thing for jaded appetites. Usually followed by instant whip or ice cream.
The other time I associate plaice with medical problems concerned my regular trips into the Eye Hospital in Manchester. I had an eye op when I was about 4. From then on, until I was in my early teens, I went for regular check-ups. My reward for good behaviour was that afterwards we would go into the city centre for lunch. For me it was always breaded plaice with a cherryade to drink with it. Cherryade was something you just couldn't get at our local shops so it seemed really exotic.
On this occasion, I've skinned the fish. Later on I will spread some dressed crab on the fillets, top them with wilted spinach, roll them up & pop them in the oven.
Tins of dressed crab also have family associations. My Uncle John always had a soft spot for my Mum & knew she loved fish despite my father's reservations on the matter. He had a corner shop, that subsequently became a small supermarket as times changed. Some of the time during the war, whenever she was based in Stoke, my Mum had worked for Uncle John. After the war, long after rationing had ceased, some foods remained scarce and/or very expensive. One year this small tin arrived in the post. It was Uncle John sending her a tin of dressed crab. It was delicious. From then on he sent regular supplies. My brother took after my father in his reservations about fish so he was never bothered about crab in any form, but for my mother & I it was real treat.
Nonetheless there's sunshine in the Foxes' den. A few minutes before 9am this morning, the phone rang. The hospital with the biopsy results. Typical cyst so there's nothing more to be done, beyond, that is, a recall in a further 4 months' time just to check on things. What a relief! When I hadn't heard yesterday I began to get quite anxious. Clearly they probably tried when we were out doing the food shop, so left it until today before trying again. Whatever the reason, the result is much jubilation in the Foxes' den.
To celebrate we're having some plaice for dinner. It's not often I buy plaice, but for once they were decent sized fillets.
I always associate plaice with my Mum & medical problems. Whenever we were ill as children, my mother's solution for something light & easily digestible to tempt us back to eating solids again, was plaice. She always just seasoned them, dotted them with butter & popped them in the oven - just the thing for jaded appetites. Usually followed by instant whip or ice cream.
The other time I associate plaice with medical problems concerned my regular trips into the Eye Hospital in Manchester. I had an eye op when I was about 4. From then on, until I was in my early teens, I went for regular check-ups. My reward for good behaviour was that afterwards we would go into the city centre for lunch. For me it was always breaded plaice with a cherryade to drink with it. Cherryade was something you just couldn't get at our local shops so it seemed really exotic.
On this occasion, I've skinned the fish. Later on I will spread some dressed crab on the fillets, top them with wilted spinach, roll them up & pop them in the oven.
Tins of dressed crab also have family associations. My Uncle John always had a soft spot for my Mum & knew she loved fish despite my father's reservations on the matter. He had a corner shop, that subsequently became a small supermarket as times changed. Some of the time during the war, whenever she was based in Stoke, my Mum had worked for Uncle John. After the war, long after rationing had ceased, some foods remained scarce and/or very expensive. One year this small tin arrived in the post. It was Uncle John sending her a tin of dressed crab. It was delicious. From then on he sent regular supplies. My brother took after my father in his reservations about fish so he was never bothered about crab in any form, but for my mother & I it was real treat.
Tuesday 7 August 2012
Dreaming once more
The day sets once more to be damp. There's no getting away from the rain in this country this year. I confess to be waiting a little anxiously. The hospital is due to ring today with the result of the biopsy. Much as I tell myself they said it probably won't be until the evening & they expect it will be an all clear, it doesn't stop me worrying, especially when I felt very sore last night. I'm telling myself what else can you expect when you look at the gorgeously coloured bruise on my breast from the taking of the biopsy, followed by a second mauling for an in depth mammogram.
It seems strange to think today there is nothing specific I need to do. Oh, we'll probably go and do the big food shop later on, but that's it. No forms to worry about. No preparations to make before going to see the medics. In other words life is slowly getting back to normal.
To celebrate I've just been making some meatballs in a gently spicy tomato sauce ready for this evening.
We're also dreaming of a weekend away. We're both feeling the need of a battery recharge. Although we don't feel in a position to go away long until we know the outcome of the medical investigations & the benefit renewal, we do wonder if we couldn't go away for a weekend when news on the other two counts is unlikely.
But where? Peaceful countryside or stimulating city? The countryside is in many ways more relaxing but it does necessitate more car travelling when there, & fewer things to do if it's wet. The city always has plenty of indoor attractions & the car can virtually be abandoned for the duration, or even be left behind if we went by train. So our thoughts are ranging from Stoke (to see the family) to Harrogate (to see old friends), Liverpool (the Tate) or Newcastle (The Baltic Centre), or Wakefield for the new Barbara Hepworth gallery, the Kielder reservoir where we've found a nice looking accessible hostelry to stay, or near Chatsworth, a place I've long fancied visiting, or even crossing the border into southern Scotland or northern Wales. Whatever happens we are at least in a position to fantasise about a trip away, to send our imaginations on a holiday instead of being grounded in the reality of our everyday lives.
It seems strange to think today there is nothing specific I need to do. Oh, we'll probably go and do the big food shop later on, but that's it. No forms to worry about. No preparations to make before going to see the medics. In other words life is slowly getting back to normal.
To celebrate I've just been making some meatballs in a gently spicy tomato sauce ready for this evening.
We're also dreaming of a weekend away. We're both feeling the need of a battery recharge. Although we don't feel in a position to go away long until we know the outcome of the medical investigations & the benefit renewal, we do wonder if we couldn't go away for a weekend when news on the other two counts is unlikely.
But where? Peaceful countryside or stimulating city? The countryside is in many ways more relaxing but it does necessitate more car travelling when there, & fewer things to do if it's wet. The city always has plenty of indoor attractions & the car can virtually be abandoned for the duration, or even be left behind if we went by train. So our thoughts are ranging from Stoke (to see the family) to Harrogate (to see old friends), Liverpool (the Tate) or Newcastle (The Baltic Centre), or Wakefield for the new Barbara Hepworth gallery, the Kielder reservoir where we've found a nice looking accessible hostelry to stay, or near Chatsworth, a place I've long fancied visiting, or even crossing the border into southern Scotland or northern Wales. Whatever happens we are at least in a position to fantasise about a trip away, to send our imaginations on a holiday instead of being grounded in the reality of our everyday lives.
Sunday 5 August 2012
A few things sorted
After nearly three hours at the hospital, we finally got the outcome. It seems I have what is probably a cyst in my breast which has probably got temporarily infected resulting in the bleeding. This would seem to be confirmed by the fact that I have not bled since that week that started this inquiry. A biopsy has been taken. The results will not come through until Tuesday. However, the doctor is reasonably confident that it is a benign cyst. She is rather more concerned to hear I've been having a lot of abdominal pain and feels I ought to suggest to my GP that he checks that it isn't a re-emergence of the cancer I had over ten years ago. Assuming the results of the biopsy come out as expected then I will be recalled every four months for a while just to keep an eye on the situation. There is an outside chance there is polyp in the milk ducts which will have to be removed.
While I was going for the various mammograms, ultrasound, biopsy etc, the Fox crossed the road to the Audiology Department. They've now dismissed him. He is to continue to use the hearing aids as much as possible. Hopefully, with time, the tinnitus will improve. And, sure enough, on Friday evening he did have a short spell of silence without the constant ringing. Regardless of that, there is nothing more the hospital can do. Fortunately the Fox managed to get back to my side of the road in time for my results.
Later this week I'm off to see the GP for the results of the blood tests I had taken some weeks ago. I will mention the hospital doctor's theory while I'm there. My one conclusion is that the abdominal pain increases with stress. Wednesday was a nightmare of a day as far as pain goes, both from my knees & my abdomen. But then stress does tend to take a toll on any weak spots wherever they are.
The benefit form has gone off. I can only hope that all goes well. I'm now awaiting the almost inevitable call in for a medical. I suspect there will be no avoiding that.
In the meanwhile we are trying to relax, get back to normal & tackle some of the everyday tasks we've been putting off. As well as keeping the residual anxiety under control. Let's hope for the best.
While I was going for the various mammograms, ultrasound, biopsy etc, the Fox crossed the road to the Audiology Department. They've now dismissed him. He is to continue to use the hearing aids as much as possible. Hopefully, with time, the tinnitus will improve. And, sure enough, on Friday evening he did have a short spell of silence without the constant ringing. Regardless of that, there is nothing more the hospital can do. Fortunately the Fox managed to get back to my side of the road in time for my results.
Later this week I'm off to see the GP for the results of the blood tests I had taken some weeks ago. I will mention the hospital doctor's theory while I'm there. My one conclusion is that the abdominal pain increases with stress. Wednesday was a nightmare of a day as far as pain goes, both from my knees & my abdomen. But then stress does tend to take a toll on any weak spots wherever they are.
The benefit form has gone off. I can only hope that all goes well. I'm now awaiting the almost inevitable call in for a medical. I suspect there will be no avoiding that.
In the meanwhile we are trying to relax, get back to normal & tackle some of the everyday tasks we've been putting off. As well as keeping the residual anxiety under control. Let's hope for the best.
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