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Remember how yesterday I blogged in some excitement because the Churchill had managed to do a few things right?
Well, scratch that. The doctor who was intelligent enough to come down and find me in the Day Treatment Unit to let me know that he'd booked me a tummy drain rather than trying to phone me at home when I wasn't there, was, unfortunately, not intelligent enough to book me a bed on the ward at the same time. No bed, no drain. So we traipsed all the way over there for the third time this week, bag all packed and bear in hand ... then hung around in the day room for a couple of hours, and then traipsed back again. Undrained. I know I said I didn't want an overnight stay, but this was not what I meant!
A nice little nurse scurried around quite determinedly on our behalf and he swears, cross his heart, that he has rescheduled both drain and bed (well, just scheduled bed, I suppose) for Friday. I'll believe it when I see it. Also, that means that I won't get my visit from Tim this week, so major sulk about that. *grump* And also it means that we will have been to the Churchill four days out of five this week, and the petrol mounts up. Imagine if I were having to do it by public transport!
It is quite a pretty drive: I'll give it that. The horse chestnuts and the hawthorn are over now, so you may cast as many clouts as may gladden your heart, but the elderflower is in bloom, and there are wild roses, poppies, moon daisies, ragwort, and some rather straggly but grimly determined Queen Anne's Lace. And everything is very green. Everything that isn't under a foot of water, that is.
I may sound quite resigned and chirpy about the Churchill fking up, but I am actually so cross that my jaw has locked quite tight and I keep having to massage it to loosen it up again. Grrrrrr.
I have often felt inclined to get my treatment moved to the Horton, which is near Banbury. But (a) I have no guarantee that it would be any better - it's run by the same hospitals trust - and (b) I don't know how to go about it.
And no, LM, I don't really think that moving to Wales is a viable solution!
Never mind. Here is Java Bear, who comes to hospital with me and cheers me up.
He had his work cut out for him today, I can tell you.
Oh Hilary it really is such a disgrace. That excuse for a hospital should be ashamed of themselves. You have every right to put your grievence in writing. I know you shouldn't have to and the service should be without flaws, but unfortunaltely in reality targets are very rarely met without blinkers and bending of rules.
I also know that when you feel poorly the last thing you want is a grienvence process to deal with but it does make them sit up and have to listen and answer their mistakes and by gum they won't make them again, honestly i've been there, done that and got results.
Sending a huge hug, I really do feel for your plight Hilary, it's just isn't fair, I feel sooooooooooo angry.
Take care and much love
I am astounded at how often they fuck up! A complaint MUST be made , maybe via an MP??
HUGE cwtchs and much love to you! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Oh Hilary, what a cluster f**k! Yesterday was obviously an aberration on their part and back to the usual today. I'm sorry you've had an expensive trip out and time wasted and family arrangements messed up for nothing. And no treatment to alleviate your horrid symptoms. Grrrr. I am raging on your behalf. (That's not strictly true, as I was raging anyway about Other Stuff).
Big hugs and grumpy stamping about.
OHHH: my paragraphs work!
As I drove home from work this lunchtime, I was thinking about you and I composed a Pome.
Our articulate Warpie friend, Hilary,
Fires words instead of artillery.
Brains, beauty and breeding
And a penchant for reading
Make our talents seem merely ancillary.
lurve, minima x
One's gob should be well and truly smacked but sadly it isn't. This apology for a hospital should be criticised publicly for the cavalier way it deals with ( I won't say "treats" as that is what it abysmally fails to do) people who are actually suffering and in need of prompt attention.
I suppose you will have to postpone your lovely brother's visit on Friday, in case they actually do have a bed booked for you. What a shower, as the late Terry-Thomas used to remark. Churchill? You have to have Churchillian resolve to be a patient of theirs.
So sorry, Hils. Lots of love & big careful hugs,
PS Minima your limerick is wonderful! xxx
Hilary that is just terrible !! You must be so angry about being messed about like that!
Like the Pome Minima!
And as for Macmillan getting the problems sorted, I think you can definately say, try again as it is still coming up with multiples.
I hope Friday will be a better day for you Hiliar.
Oh Hilary ! I can't believe they have let you down again, either ....... not a very good ' service ' at all ! Plus all the travelling back and forth for both yourself and Judy - it's just not on. Yes, I think we should send in the ' Heavy Gang ' and sort 'em out ...... Cruton can lead the charge in her armoured bin with Odin on Sleipnir followed by his menagerie and us lot bringing up the rear.
In the meantime try and unwind - give Java Bear a hug. Wishing things improve very soon and you get to see Tim again.
Love and hugs, Joycee xxx
Quite frankly I don't think any of the medical team there have a clue what us cancer patients have to go through!!!!!!!!!! Hilary you are a star, I don't cope with any of it and just lately have fallen to pieces and I'm not even having chemo!!!!
Huge hugs to you xxxxxxxx
Poo. And it is.
Oh, I guess that isn't enough words for me. (oh you wish it were I know)
Your bear is far too smiley for such an occasion. I would offer my rabbit but he is bad tempered and scared of hospitals so not a lot of use. Stick with Java- is he a bear of little brain? he looks it she whispered in case he's listening...
I hope Friday goes ok and I am trying to see when your birthday is. I know it must be soon. I will be cross if I find out after the event so fess up missy!
your hospital is crap. Mine isn't (my lovely consultant just wrote me a letter free of charge the same day I asked for it and posted it to me with a copy for my travel insurance) that's all I'm saying.
All the hugs and spoons and love
Little My xxx
Thank you, everyone, and special thanks to Minima for the pome. (Breeding?!)
I don't think this is unusual or extreme incompetence; I think it's just the norm nowadays. Nobody seems to be very good at doing anything, or at getting things done. We spent a lot of time in the day room talking to a lady who runs a drugs charity dahn sarf somewhere, who had a lot of harsh things to say about middle management - although not as many as the former magistrate I shared a room with one of the times I was in the Jane Ashleigh. (I usually sic these people on to Judy, who can talk to them at their level while I try to get myself back to the age of 15 and wishing that a Dragonrider would whisk me away for thrilling and romantic adventures.)
Anyway: I phoned the Macmillan nurses to let them know what was going on, and one of them phoned me back this evening. They can't really help much, but I like to spread the misery around. To that end, I also emailed the hospital PALS. I doubt they'll have much to contribute either, but, again, a trouble shared is still a trouble. One of my friends thinks I should get the local press involved, but I hardly think that "Local hospital a bit incompetent" is an earth-shattering headline, or much of a surprise to anyone, really.
What I am mostly upset about is that now I won't see my brother on Friday, and he won't be able to get over next week, so I shan't see him till the following Monday, at best. That's a long time! But maybe what I am even more upset about is how quickly June is going, and how fast the whole year has gone, and all the time since I was diagnosed with cancer, and we still have nothing to show for it.
Not that I want to bring anyone down, or anything.
Hilary, if all this were happening to me, I WOULD want to bring people down because I would be in such a miserable state I wouldn't care about anybody else's feelings, and wouldn't be as rational and stoical as you are (breeding, ya see...pure class).
I think time does speed up, generally, after one reaches a Certain Age. Seems to be aging J and me extra super fast these days, anyway. Illness and worry seem to eat up time in a big way, and when you're not at work, days blend into each other too.
To make you smile (or grind your teeth): today my 13 year old daughter had a supply teacher, who for some reason, was talking about a sepulchre. 'Seepoolcher', she called it and didn't know what the word meant. M (my girl) told her the correct pronunciation and meaning, but Teacher said she would Google it to make sure as she didn't believe M...omg and ffs and so on. M is THIRTEEN. Teacher is a TEACHER and is paid way more than I am, a humble teaching assistant. M does not hold teachers in very high esteem. I wonder why... Why are there so many assholes in the world, and why do most of them seem to work, no, be employed in Education and Health Care??? (mini rant over now).
mega hugs to console you after a mega-f***-up
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