The Blood Donor team didn't want me - but everyone else had made their own plans!

I knew today was going to be bad – and I was right. Not really bad bad – and not all day – the worse was the last part of this afternoon. Well, really only the bit at half past six, when the Donor Carer at the Blood Donor session told me that I would never – ever – be able to give blood again. I suppose I can understand the reasons why – they don’t really have a grip on whether cancer spreads through blood transfer – they don’t know a successful way of killing any cancer cells in donated blood – but it still hit a very raw nerve. Never mind – I went back home (with a bit of a tear in my eye, if I’m truthful) and decided that there must be other ways I can help people. Then I looked on this site, read the new comments and PMs that I’ve had over the past couple of days and discovered that I seem to be helping, just by writing about my day’s happenings. Perhaps I should start the Cross Chronicles – especially since Debs seems to have been banished into the internet underwear, with her poxy server and everything. Come back, Debs. We all miss your Daily Deliberations and it seems like some folk are going hungry because they don’t know what to eat unless you tell ‘em. There – egg risotto with eight-cheese sauce, deep-fried bladderwrack, lamb’s lettuce and sweet poached peacock testicles – Done! Continuing the “Couldn’t Make It Up” theme of recent blogs, much of the rest of my day seemed to swing from ‘Odd’ to ‘Odder’. It started with a phone call from a young lady who works for a well-known carpet supply company. She said that their man was waiting outside one of the ‘Big Houses’ that I look after and he needed to get in. Could I help? Always wishing to be nice, I said something along the lines of “Yes, of course I can help.” For some reason, this seemed to flummox the poor girl, because there was a very long silence, during which time my coffee got quite chilly. Then she realised that she was talking to a ‘SmartArse’ and she asked the question again, this time not giving me the chance to transition from SmartArse to Grumpy Old Git. “Yes, our man is waiting outside the House and would you unlock the place for him and let him measure up for the new carpet? Please?” Ever the gallant fool, how could I resist? Five minutes later, I’m standing outside the Big House, with the Carpet Man (How did I know he was the Carpet Man? He had piles! Boom, Boom!) Two minutes after that, I’m standing outside the Big House and the Carpet Man has done what he needed to do and has flown. Carpet – flown – flying carpet???? Oh, forget it. All that build-up just for two minutes......now where have I heard that before? Back to the office and a very brief meeting with The Accountant – he of the dull and boring ringtone (see yesterday’s First Aid Course blog) – who very nicely asked me if the firm would be paying me while I am off sick? Hang on – isn’t the Accounts Department supposed to know these things? The alarm bells started making very deep inroads into an already well-formed headache. I’m going to be off work for anything up to ten weeks, starting next Friday, and the Accountant doesn’t know if he should pay me! Oh Glory! We consult the Staff Handbook. It says nothing about sick pay, other than “…..payment of any amount other than SSP is considered to be discretionary and is confirmed in the individual’s Employment Contract.” We consult my Employment Contract and …….can you guess …..it says that sick pay is paid in accordance with the relevant chapters in the Staff Handbook. Then the music stopped, we changed partners, someone took away one of the chairs and off we went again. I left a very confused Accountant with the spoken words “Perhaps you should get this sorted out with The Boss.” And the unspoken words “I’d better get festering paid……Sunbeam ” Oh, that headache was coming up roses, alright! Thus did my day progress, lurching from grief to catastrophe, as is ever the way on a rural Estate. No – it’s not really that bad – but there are days when everything you plan is chucked straight down the pan by a series of unconnected events which all demand immediate attention. At odd points in the day, three separate people turned up for appointments they insisted I had made with them – and about which I had no recollection. They couldn’t all be wrong, could they? I’m losing my grip….(just wait ‘til after the operation – you’ll have nothing to grip, then. That’s for sure……) By the way, was it just my day that went from Morning to Afternoon, without that rather brief moment called Lunch? The period from 2 to 4:30 sped by, up until the point where I had a call from an engineer employed by one of our security services. He had to make some changes to the alarm systems on another Big House and needed me in attendance to confirm alarm codes and such. Now that’s fine; it’s nice to be wanted. But this was yet another appointment that everyone else but me seemed to know about. What was happening to me……cue spooky music and deep echo…..I’m entering the Twilight Zone..!” Down in the basement of this 17th Century house, the alarm engineer sets to work. He needs to talk to the security monitoring station, whips out his super-smart mobile phone and……..no signal. He asks me to check my phone – and, with the signal I got, I could talk to Australia if I wanted – so he uses my phone. More changes to the system and he still cannot use his phone – so out comes mine, again. And again……. OK – so maybe this isn’t so funny, but when I explain that the changes he was making involved adding a new bit to the alarm, so that it would still be able to call for help if the main phone line was cut – by transferring the outgoing alarm call to a mobile phone network….. …..the same mobile phone network that the engineer’s own phone was on……. …you will see why I was getting that little bit twitchy! Anyway – it’s fixed now. All it really needed was a longer bit of string, two more baked bean cans and some sticky-backed plastic. Life was so much simpler then………. “sigh”………. It’s nearly half past very late at night and I’m just off to my pit. This has been my last Friday, ‘intacto’. Only six more days until I get my very own catheter and I can’t wait. Tomorrow, I’ve got some plans to tidy up my garden. Take it from me – it’s gonna pour with rain! See you soon Much love Steve xx