Post 453: Try to see the positives, Mr U.
When you run out of pills of a certain persuasion it’s often your own fault, and today was the last Ramipril. I thought the worst.
Not only that, but the managers at work kept saying helpful things about the possibility of more work. Yeah… OK. I’ll believe that when I see it.
These two things were coupled with my mate coming around to help get my Mini into a condition where it was close to being MOT-ready.
However, when you feel a bit washed out and in need of good or kind deeds to put you back on track, it’s only right to acknowledge them if you choose to notice them, as @millibob occasionally says in the replies.
It’s the case today that I should be counting my blessings and looking at the overwhelming help I do receive.
The short call I made to the chemist about whether my prescriptions would be ready today left me in no doubt that they were on tomorrow’s list.
I was obviously disappointed, but then I asked the receptionist whether I could at least have the Ramipril this afternoon because I’d run out, and that was the only one that really mattered today.
The line went quiet for a few seconds.
When the lady came back she said, “I’ve moved your entire prescription list to today.”
What could I say but, “Thank you very much,” and, “I’ll pick them up this afternoon.”
That was the first blessing bestowed on me.
Soon afterwards I got a call from the hospice doctor, Dr M, who looks after my pain management.
He asked about me first, then about the oncology meeting and the likelihood of a bone scan, Zoledronic Acid infusions and everything else.
Before I knew it he’d arranged another call for next week, and I’m now on his list for more detailed future assessments once there’s more information available.
That was great news, and completely unexpected.
Then my mate came round and started getting down and dirty with my Mini, just like old times - except I was no longer able to help him as we always used to.
He had a plan.
Before long the car was jacked up, the calipers were off and he was checking the brakes like a Ferrari pit crew.
I decided there were at least a couple of useful jobs I could still do.
Firstly, I could keep his mug topped up with tea, keeping the dust down and his whistle wet.
Secondly, I could take a slow walk to the nearby 24/7 mini-market (no, not that Mini! Ha ha) and buy us the best lunch I could find.
So, at 12.30, I called time and we enjoyed a feast of bread rolls, baguettes, currant buns, hot sausage rolls, cheese, salad and home-grown tomatoes and cucumber.
Our bellies were filled, and we chatted over simple food that somehow tasted wonderful.
Later he packed up, having completed everything needed on my Mini.
“You can book the MOT now,” he said.
It’s booked for 3 pm on Monday.
All this meant I went to the hospital for my shoulder appointment feeling full up and happy.
The specialist at the fracture clinic signed me off, knowing I’m still having physiotherapy.
That left just one stop on the way home - the pharmacy.
I was delighted to be handed the whole nine yards of medication I needed for today and for the month ahead.
That deserved a celebration, so I stopped at the supermarket and bought My Darling her favourite red canned fizzy drink.
Fabulous.
The day really couldn’t have gone much better.
Even though each thing was quite small, together they became something much bigger the more I thought about it.
Except for one last thing…
But this was probably a step too far.
Well…
Here goes nothing.
Last week I bought some rather expensive English sparkling wine and a few other bits, amounting to just under £40.
When I later checked my bank transactions, I noticed something odd.
Only a tiny anomaly, but an anomaly all the same.
One: the £40 contactless payment was declined.
Two: the £40 was paid successfully using chip and PIN.
Three: another £1.50 had been debited afterwards.
All three transactions were from Waitrose.
But what on earth was the £1.50?
I was on a roll today, so before heading home with my medication I popped into the Waitrose customer service desk.
“Hi, can you help?”
I explained my concern about the mystery £1.50.
The very cheerful assistant looked into it and simply said, “You bought something costing £1.50.”
I replied that I hadn’t and wondered if it had been a carrier bag.
“No,” she smiled. “They’re only £1.”
I explained that I didn’t have the receipt but could show her the transaction on my banking app.
By now another couple had joined the queue behind me, and I was ready to leave when she suddenly said,
“Look… it’s only £1.50.”
She picked up a gift card, loaded £1.50 onto it and handed it to me.
“I’m not going to argue over such a tiny amount.”
I wandered away feeling slightly embarrassed but also very happy that the issue had been dealt with so kindly.
After all, I had nothing to support my case other than an honest face and an honest voice.
Who keeps receipts these days anyway?
And here’s the kicker…
I walked into the other supermarket and headed straight for the biscuit aisle.
I found a packet of Bahlsen chocolate biscuits for £1.35, paid for them and made sure I kept the receipt.
Then I walked straight back into Waitrose and waited for the same assistant.
I said,
“You trusted me and left me feeling completely satisfied with how you dealt with the problem.”
I handed her the biscuits and the receipt.
“These are for your next tea break,” I said, “and there’s the receipt so no one mistrusts you.”
“Thank you for helping rebuild my trust in this store.”
As I walked away she called after me,
“But you’ve spent the money I just gave you!”
I smiled and replied,
“It was worth it to see your smile.”
So there we go.
My Darling wondered what on earth I was doing wandering around town because she was waiting for me to come home to a huge salmon salad dinner.
Deep joy.
Sleep well & take care.
P.S.
The Pig & Butcher is one of many local pubs around Uckfield we could try, @millibob.
Food and beer…
Or just beer…
Lots of choices.
Mr U.
