A little break

My plan to go for a walk before visiting Husband this morning was scuppered when I looked out of the window and saw the pouring rain. The second part of my plan was also scuppered soon after when Husband messaged to say there'd been another case of norovirus and the ward was in complete lockdown. No visitors.

So there I was in my dress and bright yellow tights - worn to either cheer the place up or make people laugh - and nowhere to go. And nothing to do. (I'm keeping away from people for a couple of days too, just in case.) A day in which I was all on my own and could do whatever I wanted to! Apart from visit Husband obviously. So what to do? What to do, what to do?

First of all, change into slopping-around-the-house clothes, then potter briefly before settling down with jigsaw. Then because Husband had one last night and I had loads of milk - I thought I'd cancelled today's but obviously not - I made a custard tart. I used the sort of right size tin but next time I'll go smaller. It's very thin. I will save some for Husband, in the hope I can see him before I eat it all, but will warn him to avoid the crust. Just a little bit crunchy.

Bit more jigsaw, okay, a lot more jigsaw by which time it was 4.30 and the rain had stopped so I went for a little stroll down to Blackpill and back along the beach, gathering shells and other bits as I went along. 

Mermaid's purse, the egg case of a member of the shark family, probably dogfish.

Razor shells, cockles, mussels, oyster, seaweed, coal, other fish egg cases, barnacles, slipper limpet, whelks, periwinkle, and tellina. (I had to look up a couple.)

And to prove my point

Husband's ward is now on lockdown as there's been a case of norovirus, an air-borne, very infectious, vomiting and diarrhoea bug. The superbug, MRSA, is also on the ward but apparently that's not so bad.

Sometimes I think, "Seriously? What next?"

Visitors enter at their own risk and preferably not. I think new visitors will have to wear gloves and protective clothing. The man who has it was in the bed next to Husband. He was discharged this morning and then found out he has norovirus. How they didn't work it out before I don't know; I think they thought it was his gluten allergy.

If we make it through 72 hours unscathed we're okay. That takes us to Saturday lunchtime. And I've just had a message from a young friend saying she's in Swansea - but only until Saturday. Phooey.

Last autumn half-term Daughter had booked to to take her family to EuroDisney. When it looked as though Husband would be in hospital she postponed it until spring half-term - which is next week. I've told her there's no question of her postponing again - even though she says she won't be able to enjoy it anyway. GrandDaughter1 is coming to stay with me while they're away as she has lots of revising to do, so that'll be fun. We'll watch girly films and eat yummy food.

And I must remember to do something about those theatre tickets I booked for November and then rebooked for early March. I don't have the enthusiasm to rearrange again.

Which all sounds quite gloomy but I'm not, even though I've had to postpone tomorrow's brunch with Daughter and Daughter-in-law.  

Time for bed now. Night night.

Never simple not even for Jed Bartlett

Husband's tooth is out. Hooray!

However it had fused into his jaw so couldn't be pulled out but had to be drilled out! He was in the dentist's chair for an hour. I am going in today expecting to see a puffy-faced pained man.

* * * * *

As I said yesterday, it takes about thirty minutes to get to the hospital. Which is about as long as it takes me to find somewhere to park when I arrive. It is unbelievably stressful following a stream of cars around the car parks, each driver hoping they will be the one to be in the perfect position to jump in a place if someone leaves.

Yesterday I parked on double yellow lines (no parking) because everyone else was doing it! A car pulled away and I thought, "Blow it," backed up, and drove onto the pavement. Normally you can't even find a space on double yellow lines.

Now I'm going for a walk with Daughter again. I seem to be permanently tired even though I sleep well and late. Admittedly I read in bed at night until my eyes are drooping but still I don't understand why I am so weary. I'm sure fresh air and exercise will do me good. (I keep telling myself this!)

* * * * *

Change of plan. The sunshine and showers promised have turned into rain so I'm not going for a walk. Maybe I'll start one of my new jigsaws. 

Meanwhile has Trump completely flipped? Everything he says seems to be getting crazier and crazier.

I always remember President Jed Bartlett on West Wing telling a woman who had remained seated when he came into the room that she may have no respect for him but it was the office of President that was being respected when people stood, and that she had better stand in future or else. 

It must be really hard these days to respect the office of President without seeing the man in it. Boud said there were huge anti-MAGA protests across the country on President's Day, a fact that went largely unreported on mainstream media. Will his supporters finally come to their senses I wonder, but is there anything they could do if they did? Except maybe water down his most extreme excesses.

This was the bit I was thinking of, so, okay, maybe I got it wrong but I'm sure there was a bit in West Wing when he said about the office of president! Or maybe it was implied.

* * * * *

I am getting obsessed with The Back Door.

"Did I lock it? Yes, I'm sure I did. I'd better check."

"Is the back door locked? I haven't been out of it so it must be. I'd better check."

On going out of the front door, "I'd better check the back door. You just checked it. I'd better check it again."

Trumped!

So Husband saw the dentist yesterday and he said the tooth needed to come out. However, he wasn't the person who did extractions so it would probably be next week.

When the heart surgeon heard that he said, "Not good enough," and said he'd chase it up. Result: Husband is having his tooth out this afternoon. 

Cardiac trumps max fax! (Naturally I suppose as one is more likely life-threatening than the other.)

Chatty Crone asked why it was important. Because of the risk of infection apparently. Our mouths are ideal germ-breeding grounds so they won't operate for two weeks after a tooth extraction and dentists won't do anything to teeth for, I think, six months after a heart operation because of the risk of infection getting in the blood and into the heart.

That said the surgeon was keen for it to happen because he's off (again!) the week after next so if he fits Husband in next week it will be less than two weeks after extraction. I assume he'll only do it if he's happy there is absolutely no chance of infection.

So at least things are happening.

Visiting times are 2-4 and 4-6 and it takes about half an hour to get to the hospital from home, so I'm spending a lot of time on the road. Yesterday it was GrandSon2's birthday tea - he became a teenager. That's three teenagers we have now, and Younger Son, my baby will be forty next month! Years just pass, don't they? I wouldn't want to go back but I would like to visit to remind myself of some of the good times.

Finding life hard?

A wild windy walk with Daughter and dogs today. Just what I needed. I got up and thought, oh, I can't walk today, I have too much to do. The 'too much' was only putting away clothes and sorting out washing etc but it grew into a mountain in my head. So I was glad I went.

In the car on the way there I turned on the radio and it was the morning service. The woman leading it was saying, "If you feel overwhelmed by your to-do list, and the weight you're carrying is heavy . . ." and I said, "Yes!"

"Commit the day to God, let Jesus carry your burdens." 

It was such perfect timing that I had to smile. So I prayed, "Help me to commit everything to you, help me to let go of my burdens." Like the man in the gospel who said, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief." I know they'll sneak back in every now and again but for today I'm back on top.

Husband update: seeing the dentist at 12.30 today. What is said there will determine what happens next to a certain extent. The surgeon called in yesterday; said he's busy this week but will see when they can fit Husband in after that. The ward consultant advised him to stay away from people - and then he was moved from his own room into a ward with five others as they needed the single room for someone else. Such is the state of the NHS.

Husband had chest pains last night. Called the nurse who did an ecg and called the doctor who upped his medicine. Operation can't come soon enough.

* * * * *

Went to the charity shop to get a jigsaw. Came away with four jigsaws and four books, all for £14, which is less than the price of one new jigsaw. I'm saving so much money!

 

It's an enigma

If you're going to change lanes and jump in front of someone you'd be advised to make sure it's not a police car.

He must have seen the terror in my eyes as he just said, "Make sure you look in your mirror."

But I did look in my mirror and saw the police car, but he was a long way behind. I'm sure it wasn't as close as he claimed. "This close!" I had to resist the urge to say, "Yes, sir, sorry, sir, forgive me, sir."

The bit of road he wanted me to stop on was mostly double yellow lines. Fortunately there was a little pull-in place I could stop in, but if I'd stopped on the double yellow would I have got in trouble for that too?

* * * * *

Yesterday Husband woke up in a blood-soaked bed. It seems the injection he's been having in his stomach to stop clotting was working too well.

The coronary care consultant popped in when I was there in the evening. Said the echocardiogram would probably happen today (Monday) and they'd nag the max fax people to come and check his teeth, so hopefully by this evening we'll have a better idea of what's happening.

Husband's consultant surgeon's registrar also popped in. They are aware that Husband is in and are expecting him at some point so it's all looking positive. It just depends when they can find a slot for his operation. 

When Husband was in hospital for a week at a time having chemotherapy back in the 90s we played the travel version of a game called Enigma, where you have to work out riddles. I dug out the game and took it in yesterday. We must have been smarter thirty years ago because we struggled to do any of them!

Cwtching

When they built the cardiac ward they obviously weren't taking into consideration the fact that visitors of cardiac patients might also have heart problems. Or maybe it's to get them exercising. The ward is about as far away as you can get from the car park*.

Obviously walking down a long hospital corridor one has to imagine that one is a doctor, engaged in vital life-saving work. When I tell my children this they laugh. Elder Son looks me up and down, as we're walking out of hospital together, and says, "Have you looked at yourself?"

Honestly, how rude.

At least Daughter was sensitive enough to go along with it and suggest getting me a stethoscope to dangle around my neck. Trouble is, then, someone might actually ask me to do something.

Interesting question from Elder Son: it it actually illegal to dress like a doctor? As long as you don't start treating patients? Although I suppose that might be the first step towards a psychiatric ward. I tend to imagine myself as a psychiatrist as I can't cope with blood so I could pick up some tips on how to behave.

In AMU a man kept walking up and down the corridors. I didn't notice him going in any of the rooms. I was asking the nurse about what the different colour scrubs signified. She told me light blue for staff nurses, dark blue for sisters, and so on, and then I asked, "What about turquoise?"

She wasn't sure about that but suggested a doctor. On the other hand, it could have been a man off the street imagining he's a doctor.

* Which you've just driven around for forty minutes trying to find a parking space.

* * * * *

Stu asked what cwtch meant as his understanding was that it meant a hug. I'd used it to describe Husband's little den upstairs. It does mean hug but it's not just a hug, it's much more than that. It's encompassing, and refuge, and assurance, and warmth. It's a warm welshcake straight off the griddle. It's meeting a need.

So I used it to suggest a snug and cosy little area.

It's like hiraeth. In its most basic translation it means homesickness, but there isn't really a word in English for the depth of the feeling. Deep calls to deep, a longing, an absence, a yearning for something that maybe never was but that is longed for.

* * * * *

I am still having problems viewing Facebook. In desperation I decided to uninstall and reinstall the app. Uninstall successful - until I discover Facebook is still there! I return and check my apps. Yes, definitely gone. Go back and still there - and faulty. Shrugs wearily.

Valentines, corn flakes and coronary care

I am even more in awe of the NHS staff who had to wear masks all the time during lockdown after wearing one for one day in A&E. We didn't want to take any chances what with A&E being full of possibly infectious people. 

I was also wearing my hearing aids after the audiologist said I should wear them regularly to get used to them. Trying to make both stay on was hard enough but add my glasses to that every time I needed to read something and it was chaos.

In the end I gave up on my hearing aids. They went back in their bag. But just wearing a mask was uncomfortable enough. Heroes every one of the NHS.

Anyway, Husband update. He's been moved to his own room - did I say that before? I can't remember. And he finally saw a cardiac consultant at about 6 yesterday evening. He arranged for an x-ray  - done - and an echo cardiograph (or is it gram?), which will probably be early next week. He'll also ask for someone to come and look at the painful tooth and see if anything needs doing. I get the feeling Husband won't be out until he's had his surgery, although who knows?

The consultant listened to Husband's heart and said, "Oh, that's a good one. Is it alright if I bring some students in next week to listen to it?"

So doctors of the future will benefit from Husband's condition if nothing else!

Meanwhile, while visiting him yesterday, I became aware of something scratching my belly. I was wearing a sequinned jumper so vaguely thought it must be the sequins causing the itch. It wasn't until I got home and it struck me that a) the sequins were on the outside, and b) they were nowhere near the itch, that I checked.

I had some crunchy nut corn flakes stuck in between my vest and my skin.

* * * * *

Yesterday morning pottering around the house I thought, "Now if Husband were the romantic sort he'd arrange for flowers to be delivered to me, on account of it being Valentine's Day and him being in hospital and me at home." Then I chuckled to myself as I could hear him saying, "The price of flowers always goes up on Valentine's Day. You can buy yourself some later on in the week when they're going cheap."

* * * * *

There's a wonderful mural on the wall of the A&E department illustrating the history of Morriston Hospital.

Morriston took its name from Sir John Morris as it was a planned village built in the late eighteenth century for the workers in his copper smelting industry in Swansea Valley. 

The hospital was built in 1942 as an emergency hospital, and has since been expanded and modernised, and is now one of the largest hospitals in Wales.

Husband is in the Coronary Care Unit, in Dan Danino ward, named after one of the founders of the cardiothoracic surgery department. At least he was yesterday. The day before he was in the Cyril Evans ward, co-founder of the department. Who knows where he'll be tomorrow?