Is it me?

I was upstairs when B shouted me.

B:  ’Can you come here for a minute?’

Me:  ’I’ve got no pants on.  I was going to have a shower.’ – Look, I still say shower since it does involve the shower but it is more of a hose down at present

B:  ’Well can you put some on and come down.’

Thinking he wanted to show me something outside that would disappear unless I saw it at that exact moment and trusting it didn’t involve a neighbour standing in the kitchen I wandered downstairs without my trousers on – I had my knickers on and my cardigan was quite long.

I arrived in the kitchen to find B with a stern expression on his face and his arms folded across his chest.

B:  ’Look at this.  I opened the box and the first three were like this…’

B:  ’I haven’t got the receipt but it says Wilko on the box.  They were only £1.59 (ish) but I feel like taking them back.  They open on Sundays.’

Now I think he both expected and wanted me to say ‘It’s not really worth the hassle is it’ but considering I’d had to come downstairs and was standing trouser-less, but socked,  in the kitchen I said

‘Yes, but its the principle.  I think you should take them back.’

Cast your mind back to last June

What were you doing?  We were fortunate enough to go to Lorna and Mike’s wedding.  I had blood poisoning at the time and had gone into hospital on the Friday as the wedding was on the following Tuesday but was given day release to attend – as detailed here and here – but very, very briefly I hadn’t been up to making the dress I intended to wear and being in the Royal couldn’t go and get my back up dress.  As it turned out my eldest nephew went to buy it for me and they didn’t have it in my size so I trusted his judgement as to another black and white dress and this is what I ended up with…

A very nice choice I think we all agreed and at the time I mentioned this was no less remarkably in light of, not said nephew’s age of 19, but his choice of fancy dress (well I think it was fancy dress) for a party at Uni shortly after.  I somehow didn’t get round to posting the pic – well here it is now…

What’s worrying is the only thing he had to buy was the… vest!

The Fire

It wasn’t a big fire, it wasn’t even a dramatic fire – well I guess depending on your definition of dramatic (B may dispute this but the couple when I lived at home involving a tea towel above the grill catching light and a pan with a bit of oil in were more dramatic as far as I’m concerned) but it was definitely a fire.

Last Saturday, even though I was a tad tired, I rashly said to B that if he liked I’d make pancakes for breakfast on Sunday.  Needless to say he was quite enthusiastic and pointed out that it had been quite a while since I’d made them.  To be honest since Christmas B has done the vast majority of the cooking and has got very good at doing steaks – beef or lamb.  I just take over as head chef if it involves anything that couldn’t be defined as a steak – apart from frozen scampi.

So Sunday I made pancakes.  Now I can’t say that I started this task with tons of enthusiasm and I also can’t say that the meal we had them for was breakfast although it was our first meal of the day.  I only entered the kitchen, in my jim jams straight from bed well maybe not straight I’d probably used the bathroom first, at 12.03!  I know, what a slob!  It is the longest lie in I’ve had in years and years.

So before I could change my mind I set to and mixed the pancake batter in a half asleep manner but let’s face it it’s not sending a rocket to the moon – or curing myeloma so although I couldn’t remember the exact quantity I usually make (was it one and a half cups of flour or two) it’s not like anyone’s life depended on it.

I’d shouted upstairs to see if B wanted a milky coffee and when he said he did I’d popped the milk in the pan and set it on the gas hob while the pancake pan was warming up.  I invested, not much, in an actual pancake pan.  It’s very flat with a tiny lip round the edge and means that even the first pancake is perfect but the surface is now a bit iffy so I give it a light coating of light olive oil.  In my half asleep state I’d been a bit exuberant with the oil so there was quite a bit heating up.  B then arrived in the kitchen and pointed out that the milk for his coffee wasn’t on.  Now I don’t deal well with mither within two hours of waking up at the best of times and I was really groggy so I believe I may have muttered something about it usually being ready with his pancakes while noticing that the oil on the pancake pan was borderline smoking.  Now I could have removed the pan from the flame but that would have been too easy obviously and would have slowed the process down – even though I knew I wasn’t going to break any records that day.  On a good day I can go from eggs, flour and milk to sitting down to pancakes, milky coffee and orange juice in twenty minutes.  What?  Doesn’t everyone time themselves doing stuff?  Huh?  I think it may have to do with B always asking how long stuff takes to make and getting a bit antsy if I say half an hour and it turns out to take three.  That said, when we did a weekly shop I used to time myself putting it away (three minutes) oh, and when I changed the bed sheets/duvet cover (five minutes).

Right, I think that’s all I timed.  The first because putting the groceries away was really boring and the second to make a point after the m-i-l had told me I was ‘a cheeky bugger’.  I know I was shocked too I mean it’s not like I asked for it…

m-i-l:  ’We’ve been really busy today.’  It was a number of years ago and my father in law was still alive plus I was still capable of changing the bed without my back kicking off – B does it now and no, I’ve never timed him.

me:  ’Have you.’  No, I don’t need a question mark as I wasn’t really asking at this point.

m-i-l:  ’Oh yes!’

Now I wouldn’t have usually asked but since she was always saying she was busy and considering my Auntie En is a year older and at the time looked after her husband, cooked a homemade tea every night (as opposed to anything out of a tin) and made up lunch for one of her sons who’d moved back home along with knitting, sewing, crocheting blankets for charity and going to tailoring or upholstery classes at the local college I did sometimes wonder what the m-i-l’s definition of busy was and curiosity got the better of me on this occasion.

me:  ’What did you do?’

m-i-l:  ’We stripped the bed and put the sheets in the wash, then put them on the line and then when they were dry re-made the bed.’

me:  ’So that took you ten minutes.  What did you do after that?’

m-i-l:  ’You cheeky bugger.’

Where was I?  Oh yes – the fire.  So the pan was smoking and I couldn’t be bothered to do the sensible thing and take it off the flame… I plucked a few pieces of paper kitchen towel out of the cupboard and whipped them swiftly over the pan to remove the excess so that I could pop some batter on the pan but where should I put the now oily towels.  Oh yes, it’s all too easy to say from the other side of your computer screens that the bin may have been a good idea but B was in the way and I needed to get batter on the pan ASAP.  I couldn’t put them on the worktop as I believe I may have mentioned they were oily and that would have involved more cleaning up so it made perfect sense, at the time not so much now I have to admit, to pop them on the gas burner behind the one with the pancake pan and next to the one with the milk pan.  I then proceeded to switch on the flame under the milk pan – except, as you may have guessed, I switched on the one under the oily paper towels by mistake.

Now I think I may have mentioned in the past that I’m your gal for an emergency but B isn’t your guy.  However on this particular occasion he did in fact deal with it exceptionally well, which was good as I was even calmer than usual – to the point of it possibly looking like catatonic inaction.  I watched as the paper towel burst (which I think describes it pretty accurately) into flames and worked itself up into a quite a flame, at least twelve inches high even after I’d switched off that burner.   I could feel B hovering behind me waiting for me to do something but hey, I figured this was the reason that extractor hoods and wall cupboards have to be a certain distance from hobs.  So although I did think that it was probably quite rational to try and put out the flames since it seemed highly unlikely they would set fire to or even singe anything else surely the easiest thing all round was just to let them burn themselves out.  B however didn’t feel the same and started muttering things about damp tea towels so I figured ‘What the heck it might make him feel better’ and let him run one under the tap.  Now I did notice that the towel ended up more ‘wet’ than ‘damp’ and so took over and extinguished the flames.

All we lost was one pancake and not even as a direct result.  B suggested it might be a good idea to remove the tea towel from the hob, because he’s practical like that, and as I lifted it up a little piece of incinerated paper towel fluttered down onto the uncooked side of the pancake.  I believe the look I gave B implying that this loss was his fault was a step too far.  He didn’t say as much I just guessed from the way he snatched open the kitchen door and stormed off with the soggy singed tea towel into the garage.

I gave him a hug when he came back in because it must have been a bit of a shock – after all it was his first kitchen fire and my third.

 An lookie ’ere, I finished the little aran cardy, hat and mittens…

B punished me for being bad

He made me watch The Jeremy Kyle show while we ate our lunch!  How barbaric is that?  For those of you not familiar with this high brow presentation it’s kinda like a low brow version of Jerry Springer.  Seriously the people that appear on the show are so, um well, rough is probably the politest way of putting it.  And what makes it worse is that this applies to ALL the guests, not just the ones who are having their baby DNA matched to the 10th possible father but everyone.  There was a show a few weeks back that was about a health issue and the parents looked as though they’d just been asking people for change outside the studio.  I could only think wardrobe was responsible for their clothes as it seemed bizarre that they should look so unkempt too.  Well either that or there is a dress policy on the application form.

Anyhoo what had I done to deserve this punishment.  It’s all the blood’s fault.  I had been feeling pretty good anyway from Tuesday but after the two units of blood yesterday I felt particularly good today.  This resulted in me doing something rash whilst B and Bud were out walking.  In the midst of getting some paper out of the loft to wrap B’s birthday presents I thought ‘I wonder if I could put the boxes of Christmas decorations away myself’, as B has been threatening to do it since well, Christmas actually.

It turned out I could, with a bit of a struggle I admit.  Now I knew B wasn’t going to be happy but I thought it would take him a while to notice they were gone since most were under my sewing table but I was only finishing putting the last box up there when the two Bs got back.  So when we sat down for our watercress sandwiches shortly after I got subjected to Jeremy Kyle and as if that wasn’t bad enough B turned over before we found out if the baby was fathered by the guy who had been on the show once before to tell his then girlfriend that he had a baby with his ex-girlfriend, yes the same baby that his ex-girlfriend was now saying had a 50/50 chance of being his.

Needless to say I won’t be doing it again this year, I couldn’t take another episode.  Although I’ll be safe for the next few weeks.  We got a phone call at six this evening, when I thought I was safe for the day, informing me that there was a bed available at the Royal and I should go in at lunchtime tomorrow.  It’s a good job I’ve only one thing left to do on my list plus it’ll give my back a chance to get out today’s exertion.

Odd Man Out

I used to love Sesame Street especially Mr Snuffleupagus (or however that’s spelled), the Count counting and Ernie the Grouch – so let’s get all Sesame Street – ‘One of these things just doesn’t belong here, one of these things just isn’t the same.’

Buddy

An orange

Me

Any guesses? Well if you guessed me you’d be right. The connection between Bud and the orange is this…

B has stuck both Bud and the orange with it. After taking Bud to the doggy dermatologist for his allergy related cysts and infections on his paws back in September she suggested that we could try a desensitising vaccine on him. Now I may have been tempted to say no but his paws did look quite sore and there’s also the risk of an infection I could pick up and the other longer term treatment if he needed it involved a medication that I wouldn’t be able to touch, so I said yes.

B took him for his first jab while I was in hospital. The dermatologist said that we could do the rest of the injections at home, there’s about ten in all but B felt that he couldn’t manage it on his own with so he’s been taking Bud back to the vets and the nurse has been doing it. Well, the nurse did the second one and then B did the third under her supervision. On Thursday we took Bud for his fourth and B did that one too. Bud however wasn’t as settled and calm as on the previous occasion – possibly because I was there – and I have to admit my heart was in my mouth when Bud started to wriggle while B still had the needle in. B has decided that he will take Bud back for another one under instruction and then give them a whirl at home.

The nurse had given B the old syringe on the third trip and suggested he practise on an orange which he did. Now when we went to the clinic on Friday I got some anti-clotting Fragmin injections, because of the Thalidomide, and on Friday when I did the first one I asked B if he wanted to do it since both mine and Bud’s are done subcutaneously (under the skin as opposed to into a vein). He declined and maybe it was just as well he did if we take a little looky at the post injection orange…


Back away from the netbook

Seriously technology in our house at the moment needs to carry a health warning – from the hardware to the software (the software probably being me).

The netbook or notebook, depending on which one of us you ask, the manual says notebook but accordingly to B the sign in the shop said netbooks, ended up getting a second return visit to said shop. Boxing Day B took me for dialysis because hospital transport wasn’t available and I’d downloaded a film to watch. I had however noticed previously that there was a ‘problem’ with the sound coming out of the speakers so after a bit of ineffective twiddling with settings we ended up with an ear-phone each and a slight list towards each other so that they didn’t fall out.

Off we traipsed the following day to complain about the level, or rather lack of it, of sound coming out of the speakers with me all prepared to request, if not demand, a different make while staying as far away as possible from strangers and their strange bacteria.  Now to give the IT guy in the shop his due he didn’t at any point give either of us a look which said ‘Oh for goodness sake – what a pair of numpties!’ as he said ‘Speakers aren’t very good on netbooks. They are really designed as a quick and easy way of accessing the internet but I’ve have a listen to it and see.’ ‘Yes’ I said ‘but you can barely hear it.’ And apparently ‘barely hear it’ was the correct sound setting as the netbook only has one  low quality speaker. He did go on to say that some laptops don’t produce much by way of sound but since ours is as good as watching something on the TV we weren’t aware of such problems.  On his recommendation we paid less than £10 for a USB speaker which turned out to be LOUD – so we didn’t have to sit as close together on the Wednesday.

Having mentioned the laptop there’s another technology issue. As you may recall B took the laptop in for some treatment of it’s own while I was in hospital. Said treatment by the way had nothing to do with me and the orange pop (soda), the graphics card had bust. The laptop was also due home on Christmas Eve per a conversation B had in the shop and two texts I received – well okay the first text said 25 December but the second one said 24. B called for the laptop before he called for me but unlike me it wasn’t there to be collected. The shop said they mustn’t have had the delivery yet. Later in the afternoon I got a further text saying it would be in on the 29th. B called on the 30th and guess what – no laptop and so far no text. Oh, but we have had two stories about items left for repair with this shop that got lost.

And then last week I couldn’t remember my email password – I mean it’s not like I don’t use it much. Okay it hadn’t been getting as much use as usual by any stretch of the imagination but really. Mind you this would also tie in with forgetting my blog password while in the Royal. I think this added to the confusion as I was sure I’d changed it to something similar to the email. After numerous attempts B suggested that I should check the notebook with passwords. I however was insistent that it wouldn’t be in there because I’d changed it while away from home. Fortunately I ignored my own insistence and lo and behold it was in the book because I’d changed it a few months ago when yahoo told me my account had nearly been spammed or something. As it turned out I was just one capital letter shy of getting it right first time round but then I had started to think about it which let’s face it sometimes with passwords, and card pin numbers, is never a good thing.

And I still haven’t got round to adding the netbook to our home broadband so I keep needing to top up the mobile broadband – how lazy can some people be?

Oh, and then there’s been the fun and games with my new mobile phone. I didn’t really want a new phone, I liked my old one. ‘Then why get one?’ I hear you ask. Well, because during my stay at the Royal I spent on my pay as you go tariff more than I usually spend in two years so I thought it might be a good idea to get something cheaper. Since I couldn’t just move over to pay monthly with my own service provider without getting a new phone I did a little shopping around and found a deal with Tesco for £7.50 a month, 230 minutes, 5000 texts and some internet use which included the following phone…

and although it arrived probably more than a week before Christmas I only got round to finally transferring my number on 29 December but was refusing to spend any more with Virgin so I was receiving with one and sending with the other – which was fun. And I spent at least an hour and a half transferring contact details from my old phone to my new one one day on dialysis last week so at least I knew who was sending me stuff again. I must admit me and mobiles are limited to minimal usage, texting, calling, as an alarm, taking the odd picture, listening to music very occasionally so I don’t want anything fancy from a phone however when I first switched this one on I thought it was defective as I couldn’t get any menu options up – turned out it wasn’t the phone that was the defective one!  I was pushing the wrong button. After persevering and ‘finding’ the right button I decided to give the new phone a go because I hate texting with all the pressing of keys to get a letter and this new phone has a tiny QWERTY keyboard on it so I can just switch off and let my thumb find the letters – it’s so quick.

And the big plus with Tesco is that I can actually use this mobile in the house. Oh, I could receive texts but to send a response I had to stand near the porch window and on occassion actually wave the phone out of the front door to even get a signal and the phone would ring for a call but then cut out unless I pressed myself against a window. Now you wouldn’t think that Tesco would provide better coverage than Virgin.  And its just as well I’m not easily embarrassed as it rang for the first time in the lift with two ambulance men.  One of them checked their phone, then when it was still ringing the other tapped his pocket and then they both looked at me and asked if it was mine.  ’Oh, it could be I haven’t heard it ring yet.’

And I haven’t even mentioned how we seem to have lost the ability to get Sky TV on the telly in our bedroom. I thought it might have something to do with upgrading to a high definition box but we can still get it in the back bedroom and B’s is showing some reluctance to checking the cable – I mean it only involves getting up on next door’s garage roof.

Fortunately the one thing that does seem to be working fine is the Xbox 360 I got B for Christmas. I hadn’t got him anything and accidently clicked on an advert which showed them. So on 22 December I ordered one from Amazon and they delivered it, along with a game from Auntie Ann, on the 23rd – can’t knock that for service. However the game that he considered I’d got for myself (and he wasn’t completely wrong) is the one that he keeps playing and he’s way better at it than me – it would appear I just don’t have the patience. It all goes a bit pear shaped and I just want to go back to knitting – and this hasn’t been without boo boos recently either, but more on that again.  Although if B says ‘D’ya know what I mean?’ one more time while informing me of something in relation to the game he could be getting a boo boo of his own.


Keep going there’s a giveaway right at the bottom!

Right since Sunday the following things have happened – I decided to do them as a list to aid reading (okay it was really for me so I didn’t have to link completely unrelated points).

♥  We ate tea at a friend’s Sunday evening – well more correctly I pushed my Fusilli Bolognese (sorry Margaret if that breaks any Italian dining etiquette ie, not using spaghetti) around my dish until it looked like I’d eaten a bit and the other bit had been retrieved from under the table after a piece daring leapt from my fork and landed on the new carpet leaving behind a trail of carnage on my T-shirt and trouser leg.  I did sponge it off  – kind of.

♥  I settled down on a settee and didn’t even pick up my knitting – which was commented on yesterday when I was informed I hadn’t looked a bit well then but looked better yesterday.

♥  My temperature Monday morning was 38.1 so I decided to go to the open surgery at our GPs.  And why didn’t I ring the hospital some of you may be asking – or not – but I’ll tell you anyway.  Because it was Monday, Mondays are busy, B is on holiday this week and I’ve managed to sabotage three out of his last four holidays with appointments or impromptu vacations at The Royal so rather than spend several hours there I thought we’d go to our GPs (who you will remember I think are wonderful) in the full and certain knowledge that if it looked anything too iffy they would send me along to the Royal.

♥  We left the house after I had managed to give Bud his ear drops in his correct ear, give him his antibiotic (more on that another time) but was wearing the trousers with the sponged pasta sauce stain, an un-ironed T-shirt and my night time knickers.  WHAT?  Look some people wear the same knickers (well not the same but you know what I mean) night and day, some don’t wear any either night or day {slight hyperventilation} but I like a sensible won’t show you up if you get knocked down by a bus, comfy fitting but not too loose!?!?!, doesn’t display a VPL (visible panty line) pair for the day and a comfier, slightly larger more outlandish pattern – flowers, the odd little bow, frog, little ruched bit (nothing kinky) pair for sleeping in when there is no chance of getting hit by a bus.

♥  I got broad spectrum antibiotics and told to come back if things didn’t get better – and I was informed I was somewhat cheeky when I enquired as to whether the GP had bought herself ‘Top Doctor’ cup (allegedly it was a present from a patient)

♥   Took Bud on short walk with B – napped rest of day so missed out on B taking me for new TV (ours is state of the ark at 17 years old and misses off words at side since most things are now in widescreen)…

New fridge freezer…

as that bowl (which is way nicer in real life) isn’t for decorative purposes but for the leak that it’s had for quite a few months now, and…

a new tumble drier because that muck on the top apparently isn’t going to remove itself!  Okay so it’s really because it’s lost all sense of appropriate heat settings and although it does most on cool it still occasionally does a ‘hot as hell’ setting without warning

♥  No knitting but tidied up crochet Share a Square squares

♥  Tuesday – temp 38.0 but dropped to 37.5ish for rest of day, Bud, B and I had short walk, felt better later in the day

♥  Bud stood in his own poo in the garden and was ever so good at having his paw, washed, washed and disinfected, but was a bit traumatised at having his bum wiped, well it was more of a swipe as he battened down his tail tighter than a submarine’s hatch so I had to improvise (Addendum – this was before we knew it was on his paw!)

♥  Didn’t go to support group as temperature and anything associated with it was mine, all mine I tell ya!  Had been looking forward to it – it was a talk by Blood Pharmacist (you know I mean Haematological Pharmacist but I can’t spell haematological)

♥  Did manage a little bit of knitting

♥  Phoned hospital this morning even though temp only 37.6 and I felt better than Sunday/Monday I felt worse than last night and just not right.  Left home at 9:10.  Got home at 15:45.

♥  By the time my temperature was taken it was 36.9 (for the love of dog), bloods were taken and we were isolated what appeared to be the Marie Celeste ward by which time I felt decidedly better and B put forward that we could go home.  Attendant Health Care Assistant said we could, but did he really want to have to bring me back later in the week

♥  Did a little bit of knitting

♥  Saw junior doctor, and during course of conversation mentioned that it had dawned on me whilst I was sitting there that the way I felt was similar to the way I felt in February when the myeloma numbers jumped up and since it was 31 July the last time my paraprotein was measured she agreed to it being done once we reached matching lingo (serum immunoglobulins) and said she’d chase up this morning’s blood results

♥  Had kip – just to prove I wasn’t faking – B had been asking me crossword clues and I nodded off and then briefly woke up and asked him, to his amusement, what the next one was before dropping off again

♥  Health Care Assistant came to check on us and where things were up to and said that the doc had said that the serum immunoglobulins were measured on Friday so no further test needed today

♥  Doc came back later to say it wasn’t good news and that IGa results were in from Friday and it’d gone up from 0.65 ish in August to 17 something (sometimes don’t you just hate it when you’re right, not always just sometimes) and that my blood counts had dropped a fair bit since Friday

♥  We bumped into the transplant doctor coming out of the lift, who knew where things were up to, and he said that obviously where treatment would probably have been needed to reduce the plasma cell content of the bone marrow prior to transplant it would definitely be on the cards now.  ‘Are they keeping you in?’  Slightly high pitched ‘No’ from me.  Dr S said I’d probably see the consultant on Monday and he’d chase up the MRI request

♥  I take bad news better alone – B was at home when I found out in February that it was back but today he sat and leaned forward with his head in his hands and I had to ask him if he was alright – as did the doc – he told her to just deal with the patient and she (patient) would inform him later.  And when I asked if he was okay while we waited for the lift when he answered ‘I just don’t want to lose you’ I had to fight back tears while entering a lift full of strangers.

♥  Although we didn’t eat out we got drinks and Eccles cakes in the cafe

♥  My Auntie Ann and I were supposed to be going to the Myeloma UK Infoday in Manchester on Saturday but when I asked the doctor if there was any chance I did have an infection I could pass on she pointed out that the bigger risk was to me with how my counts had dropped (although I’m not neutropenic).  So if anyone is reading this who lives close enough to go I have three tickets up for grabs.  Just drop me an email (feresaattenuata@yahoo.co.uk) or leave a comment to that effect and I’ll email you and they are yours – free of charge – well if you do me a little report saying how it went!  Just kidding.  Actually if anyone takes me up on my offer and does a little report I’ll pop in on here AND give them a free Myeloma Buddy.

♥  I also learned this week that CD/TV in the local ads in the paper doesn’t stand for compact disc/television but cross dresser/transvestite – which could get confusing especially if you were trying to stick one on your living room wall!

Dear Doctor

You may remember, and if not –why not, that the last time we saw the Prof at the Royal he referred to me as ‘intelligent’ (or, as per accompanying friend’s recollection, very intelligent) however it would appear that B’s brother finds me incapable of recording and passing on a message.

B’s brother rang on Monday to ask (tell) him if he could make an appointment to take the m-i-l to her GP’s as she had a fungal infection in her toe nail.  So I rang up yesterday morning and after taking the second appointment offered, B then rang his mother and then rang the GP’s receptionist back and re-took the first!

At 12:05 today B’s brother rang and asked if B was up.  I said no, whilst resisting the urge to ask what the heck would he be doing up at noon on a work day and that he would be getting up at 14:30.  (I mean he only gets in at 07:50, after food shopping, and had missed breakfast to get to bed earlier than usual to ensure he was up in time.)  So B’s brother started to tell me what he wanted B to say to the GP (along with the toe thing) and when I asked questions (we all know how unlike me that is) he decided he’d try and ring back to speak to B before he left to pick the m-i-l up.  He did but our phone is dodgy (really it is, really) so he left a message that was so complicated I couldn’t have passed it on (despite doing shorthand).

I asked B if you wanted me to do a note to the GP and he said yes.  I wasn’t too sure he was serious or not, but it turned out he was when he asked for it just before he left – so I drafted a quick letter and decided to share it with you – basically, so you know the reason for my impending sudden disappearance.  I would point out that I have met the GP they are seeing and he does have a sense of humour, it was in a sealed envelope and B has strict instructions not to open it before they get in and certainly not in front of his mother!  So I’m completely at the mercy of the GP as to whether they find out what was in it!

Dear Dr S

Bernard’s brother asked if he could bring their mum to see you re a fungal infection on her toe nail (he didn’t say which one).  He also asked if, as she was housebound, the district nurse could call out daily to administer treatment. 

He rang us today to ask if Bernard could ask you to register that she was housebound so that any attention she needed in future could be carried out by the district nurse at home.  I understand she has been going to the walk-in centre for a dressing changed on her leg following a fall and he wanted this to be carried out by the district nurse (as it’s only been convenient to do this because our nephew has been home from Uni).

Despite 103 hospital appts with me this year (okay slight exaggeration) Bernard has the retention quality of a distracted three year old unless it involves pretty women hence this note.

I have no idea if Billinge still has a district nurse or if so whether they would do this sort of thing.

Yours sincerely

Paula Kilgallon (darling daughter in law)

PS – I have told Bernard that if it involves Mary’s big toe this may not be a fungal infection as the last time I took her to the chiropodist (last year) this was discussed and they said it was the result of an injury to the nail bed and filed the nail down.  (I did also say that if it was a fungal infection I’d show my ar… behind in Woollies window* so would be grateful if you could bear this in mind in arriving at your diagnosis. ;D)

*  An expression used only when you felt quite safe that your rear end wouldn’t ‘end’ up on display to passing innocent shoppers.

Walking back to healthiness – Part II

Last Monday I woke up and felt well, grumpy, unable to speak and barely able to see so basically how I typically feel when I first wake up particularly if anyone (Bernard) is expecting me to do anything (like make breakfast). However once I’d come to I didn’t feel good, I didn’t even feel okay – I felt fantastic – really fantastic .  I’d had this ‘conversation’ with a friend about how, despite having to work round the bone stuff limiting my daily activities by a vast extent compared to, as B says ‘the old Paula’, I probably still thought deep down one day I’d wake up and feel like I could conquer the world again.  And last Monday was as close as its got after myeloma put a spanner in the works.

We hadn’t all walked together for over a week and since B had put his alarm on for a really early wake up call, 13:30, to do a paint a couple of fence panels I felt able to do these myself in order that we could get to walk together, ‘cos I kinda like doing that. So Bud got two walks that day.  However for the rest of the week I was at times somewhat lacklustre – well in my opinion anyway.  Despite the several disgruntled notifications from B regarding the fence panels, especially since he’d expressly forbidden me to do them, I however put the lack of lustre down to the two walks because I must have walked milessssss and miles and miles.  B himself proforred a suggested four miles per walk – so eight miles in one day – WOW.  Well WOW for now, I once did 10 just in a morning on the treadmill to ward off the excesses of Christmas.  Heck, I’d do five after getting home from work and before hitting the weights and getting tea to get rid of a cream cake but for now –  WOW.

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So Saturday I measured it on the street atlas, I measured it several times in fact, with several different kinds of measuring stuff – because wool can stretch but my dinky little tape measure wasn’t as flexible round corners.  I myself had started to think that it wasn’t as far as B thought because I have short legs, well in fact the whole of me is quite short – and indeed is about one and a half inches shorter than ‘the old Paula’.  So although I walked quite fast before anything above 3.3 miles an hour resulted in the odd skipped step/start of a jog.  Now with this in mind and the fact that I walk a lot slower than I did it dawned on me that to get this walk done in the hour and a half it usually takes would be nigh on impossible if it was anywhere near four miles.

So as the saying goes ‘what can’t speak can’t lie’ and the tape/wool/ruler says 2.5 miles and 2.75 absolute maximum even with a bit of creative cornering.  So much for thinking that I take not so much my life in my hands but my femur lesion in my stride on every walk due to the speed I go.   I guess it’s back to my extreme sport being using Signature Needle Arts Stiletto Point knitting needles!

Walking back to healthiness

After sharing written details of our current doggy walk I though I’d take some pics.  Some turned out to be more than the 70, so I narrowed it down to 50ish and even got B to give them the once over to see if they gave a good impression of our daily outing.  I thought I’d take a pic every time we turned a corner or the view changed – turns out there’s a lot of corners!

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Part way down there’s pics of a blue bridge railing.  Someone must have pasted arty pics (like really arty – not ‘arty’ as a euphemism for rude) to the main uprights and someone else must have taken exception and spray painted over the images in black.  There’s just one that they missed.  This happened once before about four years ago when I used to cycle home this way and pics appeared on the opposite side of the posts and these too were defaced.

I would like to point out before anyone alerts the authorities that the last pic is for artistic purposes only and Bud doesn’t usually get to drink like this – he doesn’t get to drink at all!  Just kidding we have a portable bowl – my hands.

Doesn’t it look a long way – doesn’t it? It does though doesn’t it?  And that’s just half of it – I mean on holiday we walked five kilometers and it has to be further than that, right?  Following a discussion on Friday I measured it on the map – I was so disappointed.  I’ll share the grand total tomorrow along with THAT headstone.