Post 375: Dinner at the pub and Anima (x3) meltdown!
We were just about to leave the house for dinner out when I remembered the sick note I should have already sorted out before now.
Bless you. Thank you. My guests decided quickly that it was more important to get the job done, so I sat and twiddled with my fingers on my phone till the forms were filled and the email said, Anima “Success, your request has been submitted to the surgery.”
Easy peasy.
Brilliant, I’m ready, we’re all ready—let’s go. So we set off for the pub for lunch.
It was already one o’clock and we were ready for more chat than we had already had at home, this time over some food (cooked by someone else). Great.
We ordered our drinks, then meals, and enjoyed a lovely lunch, but there were two incidents that seemed awkward even at that moment.
But for you to understand, I’ll have to tell you that the couple we were with was my “surrogate mum” and her newish heart-throb.
Last September she found that she had fallen for a new man, as the late hubby’s death had left a big hole in her social and love life. He is a great guy and I’m happy, she’s happy, everyone’s happy. But it seems like her sister is not…
Why, you say, how can you know? That’s a wild baseless accusation.
Well, “mums” pork roast was without the apple sauce she so desired and was promised so my Darling legged it up to the bar (which was all the way back to where we came in) and asked them for the sauce. While she was there, she only went and bumped into my “surrogate mum’s” sister and brother-in-law at the same pub at the same time as we were there. But, that wasn’t it. The funny part was that they were not coming in—they were paying and leaving, on the very quiet.
My Darling had disturbed their plans for a sneaky exit without saying hello to any of us.
My Darling and I have known her forever (but rarely see her), and I like her hubby too. Known them for years and they’re always really pleased to see me and ask about my Darling when we meet. Also, they must have been sitting close by us in the restaurant, not more than 4 metres away. They kept quiet and we only saw them by accident due to the delayed apple sauce.
We laughed about their probable reluctance to have to talk to us all due perhaps to the new man in my “surrogate mum’s” life.
Oh my, how funny some people can be.
My Darling was the only one who got to talk to them, and all they asked about was me.
What a laugh.
As my “surrogate mum” said at the time, while she digested the pork and apple sauce, “there’s nowt as funny as folk.”
But as I had finished my main and thought about a sweet, my phone pinged with a response from the surgery. But the reply made me incensed: it went like this…
“We have booked a telephone appointment on Sat, 9 May in the afternoon with a Dr to discuss sick note can be back date”
Allowing for the incomprehensible English, the main failure was that it was today I wanted the sick note not in a months time, so I sent “Anima 2” while I was still thinking about choosing the banoffee pie for afters.
By the time I had eaten the Grasshopper pie and ice-cream (grasshopper pie is a biscuit crumb base with a greeny-blue minty cheesecakey type thing below the chocolate topping) Yes I know, I had changed my mind and wished I hadn’t, I had received a reply to the second Anima request for a sick note.
You’re getting the gist, I’m sure.
So I looked at it and I didn’t know where to start with this stupid reply…
“We have booked a telephone appointment on Sat, 9 May in the afternoon.”
Bloody hell, I thought to myself.
I relayed the story to my “surrogate mum” and boyfriend.
“I want to go around the surgery and sort this out once and for all” I said.
She says, “I will take you…
where is it?” Ha ha.
I guided her to the surgery and, as it was still before three o’clock, I could take my time walking the last few yards from where I was dropped off, calmly, collecting my thoughts—and in I went.
By the time I had opened that door, my Darling was right behind me, probably to calm me down if I got irritated—which I was bound to do.
The receptionist was aware of the whole issue and, even though she was on her own that side of the glass, I was in a room with 6 or 7 other patients, and my Darling.
I asked if I could have a sick note today like usual. She said no, because our new policy means that you need a doctor’s review of you before you’re given any more sick-notes and that’s been booked for you on the 9th May.
She and I looked each other over and both knew this was a sick-note roundabout we were on that we couldn’t get off of.
I asked if I could have the review today, and she said no. “The appointments today are only for emergencies and I can’t change that”.
I replied, is there any way I can see a doctor as an emergency? She said “no”.
By this time I had exhausted both my understanding and composure, so I said goodbye and left the building without there being any need for security and there being a huge gulf in our understanding.
My Darling grabbed me tight and we returned to “mum’s” taxi and went home.
At home, I think we all needed a rest, and “mum” said her goodbyes and took her wonderful boyfriend home, who was on his last legs with his eyes heavy and belly full.
It was a great day but it wasn’t quite over, as I was not yet finished. I waved them away and got back on the tools.
My Darling caught up on the eastern-endings and I sat in the conservatory with an obviously cat-friendly lap.
So while I composed Anima three, he slept and probably kept me calm.
This is how Anima 3 went…
“I’m so surprised and angry that I could not get a sick note today. I wish to have all the new rules explained so to me so that I can understand and prepare myself better.
Yes, all the changes I would like to know about.
I have stage four cancer.
I have an SR1 certification.
I have an incurable disease.
I am trying to live my best life and I’m faced with a new system which I don’t particularly understand.
I was told I will need a Dr’s review before I can get a sick note.
I will get that review in three weeks’ time.
I can’t push that review forward because of the new protocol.
What protocol?
I have not got any hope of a magical cure for my cancer and I’m wondering right now why you haven’t got a red warning on my electronic card when anyone opens my card up to say I’m dying soon and it’s best to put a priority on my Anima requests due to my health condition.
What is up with the old system where the doctors said I would be treated as a special patient due to my incurable disease?
I want to know.”
And with that I eased into my cat lapping and finally had my say said, and I feel that I had kept my cool even if the heart felt last message was incomprehensible in parts. Sorry world.
I was so incensed at the time that I asked my Volvo friend to mediate and calm me down. He and his partner are worldly wise and both calm heads too, so I was glad they could listen by texts.
And by hook or by crook my phone was pinging off again and again, to which I then found this text amongst a few Anima replies too:
“Dear Mr U, Please accept my
apologizes I have sent your sick note request to the GP and cancelled Telephone call on 9.5.26 once issued will send it over
Thanks,
Anima Healthcare”
Then…
“Dear Mr U,
Please see attached sick note
To view your attachment, please follow this link:
https:accurx.nhs.uk/c/p=…”
And also a phone call. It was the receptionist who had been calmly dealing with me all afternoon, who gave me a sincere apology (a few times) and said that it wouldn’t happen again, etc., to which I accepted with calm and contented relief.
Phew!
I emailed the sick-note to my employers and sat back even farther into the conservatory chair with that furry beast on my lap.
At last It’s over.
(I bet you’re glad too)
I didn’t even tell you about this morning’s visit and my second interview by our chosen celebrant for my funeral, who did meet my lovely “surrogate mum”.
I told her about a poem I was goaded into writing by a mate at work, Graeme, long ago in which I had expressed my love of my Amazon Volvo in a cheeky ditty to the tune of ABBA’s “I Had a Dream”…
Perhaps I find it for next time…
Thanks for reading this diary of a long, bad Tuesday.
Take care
Good night
