Missed!

I missed the month of October.  Not really, of course, in that I was here in the Land of The Living. Just not in Blogland. The first time, I think, I've miossed a whole month since June 2007.  When I woke this morning and realised that that it was suddenly November I also realised just how fast my life is flying by now I'm in my eighties.  

 

I'm no longer making promises to myself because I'm realising that I'm not keeping them and I always  used to pride myself that if I made a promise then I kept it, come Hell or high water.

 

What made me realise how out of touch I was getting was an email conversation with a Blogland pal from the early blogging days. It made me realise, too, just how many of my Blogland pals are no more. 

 

The irony is that in my 80s I am now fortunate enough to be busier than ever. Or am I? Perhaps the reality is that I am no busier than I ever was but  everything takes so much longer and much more effort. 

 

A friend has just bought a house in Sicily and is moving there. She offered me a ride there. Given that she owns a Bently that was very tempting. The reality is that I will never travel abroad again because, after my history of bouts of sepsis which have appeared so often and suddenly in the middle of the night, I have lost my confidence. 

 

I am fortunate to have lived what, in my terms, has been a very interesting life here and in New Zealand. So despite what would be an absolutely wonderful opportunity to re-visit Italy, a country I love so much, I am staying put in my Island home. I might, of course, pop down to Glasgow occasionally! Fortunately I am reasonably fluent in Weegie. Probably because of my knowledge of Scouse. 

 

 

In My Case It's Duvet Covers

What is the worst household chore if you live alone?

For me it's changing the duvet cover. 

When I was newly married (in 1970) we started married life with the new-fangled idea imported from The Continent - the duvet. 

My wife was brought up in a mansion. Well a very large house in several acres of garden on the very top of a small hill visible from miles around. It was, like many such houses, Baltic everywhere except in the kitchen and living room. The dining and drawing room fires might be lit in the evening in the winter and when visitors were being entertained.  So she had been brought up with duvets.

Eiderdowns (as we called them - the best ones were originally made from the down of eider ducks because it was the warmest) were commonplace on top of one's blankets in winter for those who didn't aspire to duvets.

The duvet was basically a much improved version of the eiderdown and used on top of a single sheet or, indeed, without a sheet but in its own cover.

Since May 1970 I have never slept (in my own house) under anything other than a duvet.

I love them. HOWEVER, once every week, I always used to hate them at the same time. Because that was how often we used to change our duvet cover.  

To be fair if there were two people doing the job it wasn't too bad but on one's own it was a nightmare. 

Over the years, however, I have perfected the art by using pegs on the corners and it's less of a chore. However it is still one of my least favourite household tasks.

Your least favourite household chore is....?

Oh Dear

I think that I'm depressed. 

Not in the true meaning of clinical depression but just generally peed off with life, the universe and everything (thank you, Douglas Adams). 

With apologies to any supporters of Donald Trump who might stumble across this blog, I think that he is one of the main causes. 

I've managed into my ninth decade and am very grateful for the fact that I still have (to some degree or another) all my faculties. That despite, at the age of 15, having a disease that people still die of today. The remedy was to remove a lobe of a lung and, to this day, I'm grateful for the hospital team involved in what, 64 years ago, was quite major surgery. It was after that that I had a very brief bout of post-operative clinical depression. I used to go walking for hours and hours on end alone with my thoughts. It was very short-lived. That was 64 years ago and I've never had a hint since. I count myself exceptionally fortunate. 

The other thing is that I never was an ideas person. However, I'm very good at executing practical ideas provided they are within my capabilities.

I'm very grateful for the readers of the blog who have asked if I'm okay. Thank you. I apologise (again) for the fact that I've been neglecting my blogging duties.

Have any of my other readers who may be, shall we say, not as young as they once were, found that life takes a bit longer in just about every way?

Short of something really drastic happening there will be another post this coming weekend. 

Hospital

(Written: 20 August and not edited for updates)

The last few weeks have been very full on and quite stressful. Unrelated to any of the other goings on I have just been to hospital for my uretic stent change. It's relatively routine. In 2017 after complications with my cancer my right kidney blocked. Unfortunately it wasn't straightforward and the exit to my kidney had to have surgery and an internal stent inserted. Apparently it's relatively routine. Unfortunately it has to be replaced every 3 or 4 months. So for the last 8 years I have been travelling down to Ayr Hospital for the surgery. It has been a long journey but I've always combined it with a stay with my pal, Anna, in Glasgow. The hospital is absolutely fantastic and a model of what every hospital should be like. As a consequence many of the staff on the ward I have attended for years have been there the whole time. 

For various reasons I have had an unfortunate history of pre-sepsis and, on a few occasions, full blown sepsis. Occasionally after my procedure and usually after it had been delayed. As a result they never allow me to be discharged until they are sure that I'm okay. The medics seem to have found a solution, though, and I've not had any problems for a few years. 

Last November it was decided that, given my age etc, it would be better if I was transferred to Raigmore Hospital in Inverness which is my 'local' hospital. for major things. Our local Stornoway Hospital is excellent but lacks some specialities. Raigmore is a hospital built in it's current form in 1970 with the tower block being opened in 1985. It is now far too small and appears to be understaffed and, probably, underfunded. 

As it caters for the whole of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland patients who are on longer-term treatment are not looked after on wards within the hospital. There are accommodation blocks a few hundred yards away which provide bedrooms (without ensuite facilities) and nothing else. In winter and the rain it's a long trek over the car parks to the main hospital entrance and what passes for a cafeteria which closes at 6.30 pm. It's even longer when you are feeling absolute crap in the middle of treatment. 

Anyway I had my stent changed and walked back to the accommodation block and at crack of dawn next morning went to the airport and was home well before lunch. 

I'm still recovering from the shock.