Busy week.

Sunday. NHS Milton Keynes hospital 8:00 am found me in imaging with my mother. No human to be found but a computer to sign in. We waited. And waited. Eventually I wandered around to find a human. I did. She wasn’t signed in. She was called. She was scanned. We left.
Monday. House of Commons. APPG. Big audience. Better care for bladder and bowel was the theme. Bins for Boys. Decaf drinks in hospitals. Please no! Apps. Reports. Research. I said my piece updating on the National Project. But it’s all bollocks isn’t it? We
Don’t need any more research, reports, updates, pathways. Yes bins in men’s toilets a great idea. Just bloody do it. Some bin supplier person stood up and said they were working on it, they needed to find the right bins. Bollocks. Just put bins in the men’s toilets. Just do it. Oh and put bigger bins everywhere please. And empty them.

What we need is people. Trainees. Nurses. Doctors. Specialists. GPswho ask how your bladder and bowels are

and then, know what to do about it.

The House of Commons though is always impressive.. I had arrived a little late as en route I heard sad news of a friend. Knowing my way around the security and how to avoid the radar gun thing on account of my implanted batteries. I sprinted through. Got to the central lobby only to find the procession of speaker and suits and stockings was about to happen. No one was allowed past. I nestled up to a nice policeman and showed him my pass and explained I was late .. as he whispered into his mic, a plainclothes officer ear piece in place leant over. ‘Its fine. Take her through’. God only knows what the assembled crowd thought as I was marched through, across the lobby and accopanied to the balcony looking over the Thames and my destination!

Tuesday was Pain Clinic day. My annual check up to make sure the spinal implant is working. For some unfathomable reason as I boarded my train to London, my bladder went into over drive. Clearly an infection brewing. One minute I am fine the next I am not. Perchance I had a Jerome ‘form’ in my bag. Dropped that and some pee into the lab conveniantly located near St Pancras. The toilets at St Pancras are ok just a bit short on bins to put all the accoutrements of self catheterisation. I then walked my way down to Great Portland Street. Some how and again for no good reason my bladder began to burble, my bowels began to burble, as I got to the reception desk, I managed to tell the young man, sorry can’t do the paperwork, need the loo. Like now. Without any hesitation he just smiled and said no worries, when you’re ready. No Rottweiler training for him.

Once I had cleaned up, sorted myself out and got back. He went through the necessary covid checks. He then gave me my 15 page questionnaire, typical of pain clinics every where. Questions like: How are you feeling on a scale of 1 to 10. blah blah. Just circle the midpoint every time. Saves too many after questions.

As I started on that. A man arrived, agitated and aggressive, shouting at the receptionist that he couldn’t do the covid form. He was, he said, ‘slexic’. That extraordinary young receptionist , calmly wonderfully, told him not to worry, told him he would fill in the covid form for him, asked him a few simple questions and reassured him his case worker, would be arriving any minute. Wow. So calm , professional. I don’t suppose he even knows how great he is. Most receptionist s are so aggressive, dismissive, patronising, Rottweiler trained. Not this one. Mr Case Worker arrived. He was lovely too. Looked after his charge and accompanied him in to some doctor’s room . Unfortunately it was not very soundproof so I moved away to avoid the shouting and grim story being related. While I waited, I had tweeted compliments to the hospital re lovely receptionist . It was picked up by the hospital CEO, the patient experience lady and many others. Days later, lovely receptionist was found, congratulated and I am hoping someone somewhere felt a bit better about working for the NHS. Mr case-worker had also wanted to send in his compliments too. I hope he did.

To my infinite relief at last, I was called in for my reprogramming. Science fiction meets NHS land!

Thursday, was Sacral Nerve Stimulator day. Back to London for the appointment which has been a year in the making. Clinical Nurse Specialist ( CNS) and the rep from Medtronic. Gosh I have known these two for so long. As we began to check my batteries, my phone rang. It was Jerome. Having started the gentamicin protocol. I needed to have bloods checked. GP had told me and written to Jerome, they could not arrange the tests. Blood tests. Its not too much to ask is it? I would have to get the bloods done in London. Jerome arrived to join CNS, Medtronic and I. Biscuits were shared. Stories, laughter and actually as I held my battery communicator to my buttock, Medtronic reprogrammed me and one way and another we had fun. Weirdly! Goodness knows how late the next patients were!

Bloods done. I was back home again and sorting stuff for my parents, my children and my two little grandchildren who wake up so early but are so incredibly wonderful fun, what’s a bit of lack of sleep to worry about. ‘Born in a barn’ we have practised our nativity song over and over! A ‘bundle of Christmas joyyyyyy’ they sing and all is calm.