Brassed Off….well just a little….

 The catheter remains in situ until outpatients and my third named urologist in three years , reviews the cause. Things are moving at a glacial pace and I know I’ve been isolating myself because of it all. I’ve said as much here, but I’ve not really done anything about it, using the heat as an excuse not to do things and the natural tiredness from shift work and diabetes to reinforce why I’m not getting on with real life.

My friend John in Sheffield, has been unwell for sometime, he has also lost his father recently but is still turning up for rehearsals at his am dram theatre company like the Barbara Stanwick he is.

And so after several bra strap pulls I’ve booked myself some tickets in October , got a cheap hotel room in Sheffield and have organised for an old Sheffield friend Jane to go with me.

I’ve needed to kick myself up the arse and think of someone else for a change.

Supporting a friend is the right thing to do

I’m meeting Nu for lunch next week in Chester ( she has gone out of her way to sort this!) and have booked tickets to see the North Walian Gay Themed film On The Sea, as well as tickets to the storyhouse in the Park Chester production of Nell Gwynne ( which has had rave reviews) and the comedy play The Other Side Of Murder at Theatr Clwyd .

Chic Eleanor ( “ Darling we must go” ) asked if I would go with her to see Romeo And Juliet in the grounds of Denbigh Castle next week, which was another swing on those Straps ! 

I’ve arranged to meet other fiends on line, and have ok’ed another old friend to visit on Saturday.

Get off yer arse John, I tell myself , get off yer arse! 

Old blogs

 Thank you anon for pointing out my archived blog entries. A lot of them have their photos intact, others don’t but it’s a big improvement on non at all! 

Here is an old nursing story I re found ……enjoy

It's the wee small hours of the morning and I am on my break at work.
Wards, even the noisey ITU can be creepy places in the dark!
I am reminded of a story I was told on night shift back in the asylum days
I was working graveyard shift with a EN ( enrolled nurse) who enjoyed telling ghost stories to frighten the student nurses.
The ward was a 30 bedded mixed ward for mainly severely affected dementia patients and at that enlightened time in the 1980s the clientele were termed officially as psycho- geriatrics
After a lull in the conversation my supervisor asked me if I had heard the story of one of the staff nurses who had  suffered a severe heart attack on duty only weeks before
I told her I had not, so smiling she sat me down and shared the tale.
The nurse in question was working with a student nurse like myself, only the student was a shy girl of perhaps nineteen and the workload was as busy as it was for us, as every patient was totally confused and disorientated of time , place and person.
As the patients slept both nurses made a round around the dormitory and as suddenly as heart attacks strike, the staff nurse collapsed to the floor without warning.
The student nurse panicked, and not knowing that she needed to call for help by telephone she crouched by her colleague tried to rouse her then started to cry.
Suddenly one of the patients, an elderly man in his seventies clambered out of bed.
The patient, who was mute, incontinent of urine and faeces and considered a " husk " of his former self hurried over and said in a clear voice " we had better get her on the bed"
The two of them, then lifted the collapsed nurse onto the spare bed after which the patient told the student nurse to call for help.
The student grateful for clear instructions did just that and help arrived within minutes as the nursing officer on duty rallied the troops, and surprisingly the collapsed nurse survived her heart attack though never again returned to work.
The patient involved never spoke again. His cognitive abilities were assessed and remained unchanged from those performed before this incident, and it was never explained just how he behaved the way he did when the student cried out for help.

Instagram

Blogger is delicate, at most obsolete and looking at old posts I’ve realised that many of the old photographs have just disappeared. I’m mortified, totally mortified, as happy times at the Ukrainian Village , holidays in Australia, my wedding, family memories have all gone.

Trolling around Facebook archives I’ve found some , but many of the older ones have been lost forever

Ive explored the net and have started to save a few hastily retrieved ones on Instagram 

It’s a big job……

A photo of my brother and siblings not long before he died 2012

Treats

 The treat today was half melted vanilla ice cream ( low fat low sugar) there is nothing better on a hot day, than its thick soup like consistency, confined to the sides of the container, which is easily removed with a plastic spoon.

Comforting, like a scotch egg, corned beef hash , or a fish finger sandwich.

I’ve comfort eaten my entire life. My grandmother loved boys with healthy appetites 

Ice cream was always a sporadic treat

I had my first on line Spanish lesson today with Josè I’m teaching him conversational English and he’s teaching me basic Spanish. He’s a counsellor like me, so we spend much of the time giggling over my terrible lisping. I think he’s intrigued by my obsession with King Filipe and Scotch eggs ( which you can apparently can buy quite easily at an Iceland just outside Alicante he told me) 

His job is easy, he just walking around his apartment , pointing at things ….

My Spanish lesson was my only human interaction in two days, I need fingers through my hair 

Weaver with some ice cream, below is Bun

Gwahoddiad

I have a treat for you all, please invest in two minutes of your day 

Click on the link below to hear the Trelawnyd Male Voice Choir singing the hymn Gwahoddiad

It’s sublime 

https://youtu.be/ouThtahSTkk?si=CFsNA7LK2YQ6ITVr

Labelling

 

The Filipino nurse was very efficient and kind but let slip that I was an “ anxious” patient as we waited for the doctor to change my catheter. He was brusque and I had to pin him down to what the urological plan was, which essentially was to wait to see the consultant at outpatients. 

At least I had the consultants name this time and the assertion the appointment would be “soon”

I saw the words “anxious patient” scribbled in the notes and questioned the value judgement

“The first time the catheter was put in was incredibly painful” I noted “I wasn’t just anxious , I was in pain” 

But it was obvious that they thought I was a bit of a baby

I’ve come home with some haematuria which should clear

And feel somewhat washed out

Hey ho

Thank You

 

Sometimes a little kind gesture goes a long way 

Lee ( yes she of the potty mouth from Third Avenue New York ) sent me a money gift yesterday , 

It was sent with the proviso that it be spent on “gin and scotch eggs” 

Or a “ King Filipe lookalike”

And it was sent with love and “ the neediness of an old broad on her third dirty martini” 

My old Gladiator blog follower is a star 

And a true friend 😀

Liars

 This is a muse whilst at counselling work , not a personal reflection 

Never ask a liar why they lied!

Because to explain the first lie they usually have to create another one and before long the story becomes so complicated that everything can no longer be remembered .

This is how deception works.

It does not stay small,

It grows,

It changes details , 

It re works conversations 

And eventually the liar may even start believing the version they created.

Because accepting the truth would mean accepting responsibility .

So stop waiting for honesty from someone who has ready shown you that protecting their image means more than protecting your trust.

Closure does not always come from their confession, sometimes closure comes from recognising the patterns! 

accepting what their behaviour has revealed 

And walking away