Thursday, 12 September 2013

Don't Cry For Me Aberystwyth

Well the much longed for trip to Aberystwyth in October has been well and truly scuppered. This time by the council who have chosen that exact week to revamp Mum's house by practically rebuilding it. They are putting in a new kitchen and bathroom, knocking out walls and replacing doors as they go. The house is going to be filthy, dusty, noisy and cold. No place for someone with chronic lung problems or for anyone needing somewhere even remotely hygienic to change dressings and lines etc.


I suppose we could stay at a hotel or B&B but the whole point of going to Wales is to stay with the family, not a few miles away and only being able to meet up in a café', pub or the library. I doubt the weather in October will be conducive to sitting on a bench on the prom. Besides the last time we stayed at a hotel in Aberystwyth it was less than pleasant. The bed broke before we even got in it. Unbeknown to us one of the legs was actually a pile of books and Peter kicked them while turning down the sheet, the door lock didn't work so we were told to prop the door open with a book when we went out or we'd never get back in, and to top it all they were rude to us. When I went down to complain about the bed, door and the lack of towels the receptionist said to her mate in Welsh 'bloody English, always complaining'. She was shocked to the core when I gave her a dressing down, in Welsh. Not an experience I'd want to repeat, especially as I require a secure, clean environment to store and mix my medication. If my medication went missing I would die within a few hours as my veins and arteries would collapse and cause a massive heart attack.

Needless to say this has come as a huge disappointment. Yes I know I have been to Aberystwyth this year but it was only a fleeting visit and I didn't even get time to see my sister. I was really looking forward to having a less frantic time there and meeting up with a few old friends. The next time I can go down will be in February, that is providing we are not knee deep in snow.


Now I know that this doesn't seem to be that far away but when you don't know whether 'the call' is coming tonight or never, and if 'the call' does come that you will make it out the other side, it's far too long a wait. I can't even suggest Mum comes to stay over Christmas because she won't leave her cats or her church work and even if I could persuade her to visit I'm working both Christmas and the New Year. Arrgghhh! Why is everything always so bloody complicated?

Yesterday, while Andrew and Peter swanned around the house in t shirts and bare feet, I was in a long sleeved rugby shirt, cardigan, thick winter joggers and thick socks covered by even thicker slipper socks and I was still cold. I sat hunched up on the settee feeling very sorry for myself and was a grump for most of the day. I am not a good patient. Andrew cooked lunch, gnocchi in a spicy tomato sauce, topped with Mozzarella and baked in the oven, and very nice it was, I have taught him well. That afternoon he vacuumed the house, mopped the wooden floors and dusted. I think he is already bored being at home after the cut and thrust of Paramedic work.

I sat on the sofa watching old episodes of The Bill, I loved that programme, and drinking copious amounts of tea. I even had a cup of Bovril, I keep a jar in to flavour stews and soups and seeing it hiding in the back of the cupboard though 'why not'? A hot mug of Bovril was always given to me as a 'boost' by my mother whenever I was ill and not eating well. Although I am eating a bit I have always found the drink comforting when I'm out of sorts. Another great comforter is Heinz tomato soup and I also had mug of that while watching Eastenders.


By bedtime the paracetamol had kicked in and my temperature had fallen and I was able to have a much needed deep sleep.

This morning, though still in my slipper socks, I have abandoned the rugby shirt and am just wearing a cardigan over a t shirt. I feel a lot less shivery and the sore ribs have also disappeared, probably also due to the paracetamol. My chest is still clear so I don't need the antibiotics, at least not yet. My head still feels as though it is in a bucket though and my oxygen sats are still lower than normal so I'm not out of the woods yet.

I've been giving thought to the doctor's advice to 'get plenty of fresh air'. Nothing would have induced me to go outside yesterday, I was far too cold and today it is pouring again and the last thing I want to do is get wet. So I think I'll give it another day before I venture out, and only then for a spin in the car.

So another day in on the settee. At this rate I'm going to have to do another sweep of the charity shops as I'm getting through books like a hot knife through butter. Hurry up transplant, I'm really fed up now.