I’ve spent a lot of time with the elderly again this week.

Dad coughing and bewildered.

Mum pre op assessment. What a marathon that was. We arrived at 9 and didn’t leave til 12:30. History medications etc all verbalised again. Why the hell that’s not transferable I’ve no idea. The painstakingly slow miserable typing up of all broken bones and mastectomy and and and … was at this hospital. But the poor pre op nurse didn’t know. But we got there in the end. I smirked at her answers to some questions. She knows dam well that one unit of alcohol per week is not true. Then it was ecg. Bloods. Urine. God how many times I’ve done this myself. Then it was pre-hab. In my innocence I thought that might be some physio stuff, get fit for surgery, hydrate, lose the unit (?) of alcohol etc. But no, all it was, was three sachets of electrolytes to drink the night before surgery. ‘ So that you don’t have to have fluids during the operation’? In all my years experience I’ve never had that. Can someone tell me why what that’s important? Then a raft of leaflets. Blood test -7 days covid test -3 drink sachet. 1. 2 3. If morning operation fast from 2:00 am if not 7 am blah blah … and so it went on. We staggered out. Tired, dehydrated and confused. I’ve now written out a timetable for her. I’m going to gift it to the hospital for other patients.

And now we wait. When will the operation take place? Any day now.

Meanwhile I went to see Min. She’s in a nursing home. Discharged from hospital to be convalesced before going home. What an amazingly cheerful lovely place. In hospital the atmosphere is tense. Everyone looks stressed, worried no smiles. Nursing home everyone looks at you. Makes eye contact. Smiles. Laughs. Nothing is too much trouble. Tea coffee cake for visitors. Hair cuts. Manicures. Stimulus of physio, craft club, quiz nights. Min is so much better. In fact walked us to the door. A nice nurse gave us the key-code. Min memorised it and laughingly planned an escape ! She’s on the up So the NHS can do this. It CAN work. But postcode lottery means my Dad got no care.. but thankfully Min is being brilliantly cared for. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

Meanwhile I found myself at Luton and Dunstable Hospital. Referred by dentist to see max fax consultant. God I got lost trying to find the car park. Got lost trying to find the department. Dodged scaffolding everywhere to find a door. Counted 25 ambulances stacked up outside. I so nearly just walked out back to the car. Not that I could find it! Anyhow stumbled into max fax. To be greeted by the consultant and her assistant. They were both utterly wonderful. We ended up laughing and giggling. When it came to noting my medical history and list of medications allergies and issues, I thrust my notes at her. Saying not a word. She looked up horror struck. Bloody hell she said. Have you sued ? Then instead of going through my notes instead of painstaking typing, she asked assistant to scan them into the ‘ system’. Job done we got back to the giggles and she noted my book she’s going to get for her medical student son. As for my jaw ache teeth she reckons all the millions of medicines especially steroids maybe causing osteoporosis type stuff in jaw. Bummer. Maybe I’ll get a brace ?! Never had one as a teenager. Always thought I could be a jaws type in 007. Next is MDT. No idea when. But whatever. I found my car. Forgot to pay. Barrier was up. 30 ambulances now queued and set off up the M1 once more.

Behind the scenes bladder infection has burbled along. Culture came back resistant to most antibiotics so back to the pewky stuff. Keeping it at bay is imperative more than ever right now. Jerome sending scripts and support starting at 4:39 am. Does he ever get any sleep? Goodness nightmare. But I still find myself being asked to advise others. I’m not sure I’m the best example of good practice.!