Post 397: My Hip Joints Click Like They Dislocate.
After yesterday’s fooling around in the mizzle I have to thank you readers for your replies. You nailed it with the advice that I should get on to the practice manager to let he/she/it know that one of their doctors is falling short in the compassion and empathy department one might expect.
In view of my two Anima requests yesterday I had two successes. Hurrah!
The first one was my sick note; I got one that extends my avoidance of work until the eighth of June.
I’m so glad about that. Going back to work is more to do with my head and mental health than money or being forced — I’m not. The money will be handy but a hundred quid a week isn’t going to go far these days.
The second was my request for the name of the practice manager so that I can lodge a complaint.
Both were dealt with quickly, which I’m now wondering why, because it normally takes all day. Associated with it, I was very glad to have a response later on by text telling me that I can complain via a link which took me straight to my email app which opened with the complaints departments email address - already filled in. Who’d have thought it would be that easy?
I returned a complaint that pointed out the total lack of “comfort, reassurance, pause in the consultation, or even basic acknowledgement of my distress”.
The other point was the losing of my claim form, which was time-sensitive. I’ve lost three and a half weeks that I could have had with that money, making everything easier in our household.
I await their reply.
In other news of the day I chased up the friend of a friend — if you understand that — and asked her the same question about looking for an editor to sort out my blog data into a book with very much a love-story theme.
Again, I await a response.
Otherwise I was cooped up in bed all day. The fact that my Darling wanted a lie-in meant I could also laze about all day. All day except for the six o’clock dinner at a local pub to meet, chat and mainly laugh about our very long friendship.
We’ve known them since she was a mum at the same time as our eldest, 33 years ago. She was a hairdresser and cut our hair regularly which led to a happy and relaxed friendship that has lasted very well.
The laughs we’ve had at beer festivals or parties — or anything really that was oiled by beer and wine. We are lucky to know them.
We both arrived at the empty pub car park together and started chatting, which didn’t stop till we got back in the car two hours later.
The main road that snakes around the front and side of the pub was already being resurfaced, ha ha. At last! The top surface is now as smooth as a baby’s bum and all they need to do is the white lines — and I’m not talking drugs here.
We walked into the restaurant side of the huge pub and had the choice of any seats because we were first in tonight. My Darling led the way and we sat in the farthest corner - by the snaking road.
Dead opposite there was a road, a T-junction, off the snaking road that you could see clearly from the big corner windows I looked up, directly.
We were settling in and chatting when the waitress — a thin lady in her late 50s, I’d say — who was very bright and shiny with a huge smile, came for our drinks order.
Well, her suggestion about another five minutes on the food order was accepted quickly, but she didn’t leave us before the great talking point was talked about — namely the roads.
All the cones and orange plastic fences with the two black stabilising feet were being put out in plain sight and we wondered if we were going to be let out when we tried to leave.
She said we could probably go to the left, not the right tonight.
Bugger, we thought — that’s our way home.
Anyway that led to a chat about the window and the cracks in the walls surrounding it.
“Oh,” she says, while heading towards them, “there was a car that came straight towards us down that T-road opposite but didn’t stop till it hit the wall under the window after hopping up the pavement kerb.”
She then continued with another fact.
“And that’s why there’s a huge gap I can get my fingers in between the window and the window-shelf, right here,” and she jiggled her fingers in the huge gap behind the ornaments on the shelf.
“Oh blimey,” we all said.
Then our mate said, “Is it safe to be sitting here?” After which we all giggled in a mildly scared way.
“Okay, I’ll give you five,” she said, and quickly walked away to find some new customers entering the restaurant.
Happy days.
She came around again with drinks and finally took our food order.
We didn’t stop chatting and laughing while eating the okay-ish mains, but oh, the puddings were delish.
On the whole the food was good, but the presentation better.
We left the establishment after the girls had more wine and we had all chatted and laughed some more.
There was only one topic that slowed me up and that was their five beautiful and lovely grandchildren.
As you already know I’m internally upset because of the unlikelihood of grandchildren sadly.
But I’m coming to terms with it by wondering how I can spend what I would have spent on grandkids on my Darling and myself instead. Why ever not?
A photo of the four of us was taken by the smiling waitress, which was later shared between us all. We came home happy.
It was a lovely evening out and we have already arranged the date for the next meet-up in a couple of months.
That’s something to look forward to.
After watching a bit of TV on the big blue sofas we went to bed very tired.
I can’t believe how tired I was and how much sleep I had today. It’s crazy.
I should have been full of zip, but I wasn’t.
Growing old with cancer is a bloomin’ pain like the hips and all their clicking. They do feel like they’re on the way to dislocation, but they’ll see me out.
And so June and the mighty hike are a day closer.
Sleep well
Take care
