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A Tax rose is but a rose by any other name - Page 40 - Carers UK Forum

A Tax rose is but a rose by any other name

Socialise and chat about other areas of your life
687 posts
Hi Saj, great to hear from you, sorry to hear about your accident. Thank goodness you were not even more badly damaged.
I really love the way SM and you are getting on, you will never ever find such a kind loyal and dependable man to have beside you. I'm just a romantic at heart.
Hi ,glad you were not hit by the car and are recovering ,did you report it to the plod ?The driver should get done
for dangerous driving .
Hi David C
SM informed the police. Unfortunately nobody got his/her license number; fortunately the traffic lights had working cameras on them (miracle of miracles). So, yes, the wally is being done for dangerous driving.... he,he he! Serves them right.
Plus 3 people, who'd witnessed the whole thing, gave SM their mobile numbers saying they'd be happy to act as witnesses whilst they waited for the ambulance to turn up.
But I bet all they'll get is 3 points on their license and a 50 quid fine for nearly killing somebody.

I've been off the computer of late because my injured eye, although it was clearing up nicely, suddenly started going all wonky about 3 weeks after the accident. It started to weep, crust up and feel achey/itchy. When my vision went blurry in that eye (left one) I started to get really worried.

Me: I'd better use those conjunctivitis eye drops the doc gave me about a year ago; they worked great then..

SM: Yes then, when they were unopened and...

Me: Don't worry, I kept them in the fridge like you're supposed to do.

SM: Not to use a year later, and how do you know it's conjunctivitis?

Me: How do you know it isn't?

SM: I don't, and neither do you. That's why you need to see a doctor.

I was convinced my refrigerated eye drops would have sorted my eye out without pestering the doctor, but SM can be very insistent (called nagging if he'd been a woman.) so, to shut him up, I agreed. Plus, he'd swiped my eye drops of me and squirted them down the sink, so I had no choice really.

I came out of the doc's holding a green chit.

SM: Well, what happened?

Me: Erm.... I have to go to the eye hospital and see an opmolgist...

SM: Ophthalmologist

Me: Oh stop being such a smart arse you smug bastard

SM: Temper, temper.

To cut a long story short, and the rest is not for the squeamish, the green chit meant I got to see an Opwhatisit that day. My eye was scanned, and the OP came out to tell us that blah, blah, blah, blah.

Me: What does that mean in English.

OP: Sorry... the middle section of your eye is inflamed.

Me: So I get different eye drops?

OP: Yes, but.....

That meant my eyeball was anathematized with eye drops and then injected with steriods (with a NEEDLE) in my eyeball.
I have a phobia of doctors with needles (doesn't everybody) even if it's just sticking it your arm. Imagine one coming at your eyeball. ARRRRGGGH!!!! It defies thinking about.

Actually, it didn't hurt a bit (did afterwards though.)

But I didn't move, despite my terror. But according to SM I was stiffer than a corpse with rigor mortis.

Later, when the needled eyeball stuff was over, I got to thinking.

Me: Do you that OP was kidding me when he told me that 20 years ago he'd have to pop my eyeball out, pour stuff down my empty eye socket and push it back in, and needles are an improvement?

SM: Well, which would you prefer?

Me: The needle...

SM: I've no idea if he was bullshiting, but if it was it worked. At least you took it.

Me: Actually, my eye was so blurry I could hardly see it. It was the thought of a needle in my eyeball more than anything. But an eyeball dangling on my cheek... URGHH!

Anyway, after what feels like weeks of wonky eyesight (I couldn't stand the bright light from a computer screen) and all those eye drops I had to put in afterwards, my eye is now back to normal.

Had another scare today. I took my dad for blood tests yesterday (I could finally drive now my eyesight was normal.)
We had a call that the doc wanted to see him today about them.

We looked at one other terrified.

Dad: You say it Sajehar.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him what I really thought, so I prevaricated.

SM: Tell me the truth as you see it... you've never quibbled before over Housing Associations, the government... don't quibble over me.

So, I didn't. Least I could do.

Me: No Doc calls up after 24 hours of blood tests unless it's serious.

Dad: That's what I thought to.

We didn't hug or anything. I would have liked that, but he's just not of that generation But he gave me a look respect (I think). But when the screen thing called his name up we held hands, never done that before. It felt a bit weird but right. I was so worried for him

When he came out of the doc's I asked him what it was all about.

The doc told him it was anemia, but it needed treating by the hospital.

That sounds weird to me, but I did not let on.

Maybe I should have?
Needles ,eyeballs ,oh my .They would have had to knock me out .
Glad the d1ckhead is being done for dangerous driving.
Been off forum for a while because I've been stopping smoking - 4 weeks tomorrow without a fag - cold turkey :ohmy:

It drove me mad: Think 'cat on a hot tin roof' restlessness combined with the inability to concentrate and just generally feeling grim. But it eventually worked; I'm now beginning to feel 'normal' WITHOUT ciggies :woohoo: :D

I couldn't have done it without SM's help (which I'll describe later as his tips - he smoked 40+ per day when in the army - may help others.) Cheers SM :kiss: :kiss: :kiss:

Any road up, today is Grand National day which I heartily disapprove of and have never betted on in my life. But I got so carried away with dad's, SM's and bros excitement that I've placed a bet too, hypocrite that I am :whistle:

Whilst they spent ages pouring over form, discussing accumulators and wot not, I spent all of two minutes picking mine. I used the highly scientific method of choosing a horse because it's name attracted me.
There were three that jumped out at me. I couldn't choose between them, so I decided to bet on all three.

I made a bit of a tit of myself in the betting shop. I wanted to bet £1 each way on each horse. I thought that would cost me 3 quid. The betting bloke asked for £6.

Me: But I only want to spend £3

Betting bloke: Then that's 50p each way not £1.

Me: Oh.... OK then.

I then had to fill in a new betting form thing; the extensive queue behind me did not appreciate this :whistle:

The three horses I selected are:

Wounded Warrior. Because SM always says, when I've injured myself or am unwell, "How's the wounded warrior today?" So, how could I not choose it?

Rogue Angel. Because that name reminds me of my CUK forum avatar; a chain smoking angel. So, how could I not choose that horse?

Thunder & Roses. That speaks for itself for those who have been following this thread. It's the perfect description of Sm's and mine relationship. And, if I'd been forced to choose only one horse, that's the one I would have chosen.

SM: And what odds do these horses of yours have?

Me: Dunno, pass me the Echo pullout........ 50 to 1, 33 to 1 and 33 to 1. That's ace! I'll win loads if one of them wins.

SM: On 50p each way.... Hardly, talk about last of the big spenders.

Sarky git! He's probably right though; I've chosen donkeys who probably won't even complete the course. I'd love it if one of my horses won just to do a victory dance around him yelling, "Ner, Ner, na, ner, ner, etc, etc, etc."

A girl can dream; plus I'll console myself with the barbecue we're having in the back garden after the main race by stuffing myself with medium rare steak, salad and salted caramel ice cream, but not all at the same time!
Delicious as both steak and ice cream both are, I don't think even that Heston Blumanstal chef bloke would eat those two together.

Chow for ciggie-free now.
Had a fairly hairy month with dad regarding his health. Most have been resolved by adjusting various meds but the anaemia one is hanging over us like a sword of Damocles.
He’d been on special iron pills for a month which I made sure he took religiously. But, despite that, his monthly blood checks at the hospital showed no improvement whatsoever.
This really surprised the consultant and he wanted dad to have a scan to see if there was any internal haemorrhaging. He stressed this scan was precautionary so not to worry about it… easier said than done.
We went to the appropriate receptionist to book said scan, as normal. She informed us that the system for booking such things had recently changed and we now had to book it ourselves online.
She spent ages filling in some form with all the necessary details on it. As soon as we got home, using this form, I filled in the online applicant and banged it out into cyber space.

About two weeks later, we get a letter (from Milton Keynes of all places; nearly 200 miles away) informing dad that the scan was booked for the middle of May; 6 weeks after applying online. That seems an awful long time to wait for someone who might be leaking blood into their insides. Previously, when we’d booked appointments direct via the hospital receptionist, dad had never had to wait more than a week or so, and sometimes the next day.
This new so-called ‘improved’ system seems well dodgy to me. Needless to say, I’ve been worrying myself sick, imagining all sorts. That’s the trouble with long appointment times. Someone on some other thread described this waiting for scans, and then the results, as scanatis, or something. That’s what I’ve got right now! Dad, however, is taking it in his stride, much more than I am… weird or what?

On a lighter note, The Kid is doing great guns, SM has successfully completed his first ever case as a trainee Welfare Rights Officer all by himself (it was a complicated one too) and I’m doing voluntary work as a befriender. I’ve been a bit of a victim of my own success regarding my first ever befriendee.

However, I’ll write about those things later because I’m getting tired. What I really want to do is to forget all about dad’s leaky blood (potentially) SM’s obsession with putting the world to rights (my fault because of that bet, but I’m not complaining really) and The Kid’s desire to set the scientific community alight by becoming some kind of research scientist, aided and abetted by SM’s mate Sam and SM himself.
No, what I really want to do is remind myself of the fun I’ve had over the past month… it’s not all doom and gloom, and all that, as the following photos will prove (primarily to myself.)


Good to hear from you, great pics.
Great pics of such unusual (to me anyway!) activities.

're Dads scan, try phoning consultants Secretary ( he will have one somewhere) and asking her to ask him if this wait is what he thought it should be. If he thinks it needs be sooner he may be able to pull strings/rank. Always worth a try.
Hi Mrs Average

That’s a really good idea regarding the consultant’s secretary; wish I’d thought of that at the time. Deffo for next time, as I’m sure there will be.

As it was, I managed to sort dad’s delayed scan out via his Doc. I’d noticed last Thursday evening, whilst cutting his toe nails, that his feet and ankles were a bit puffy. We’d been told by both the Heart Nurse and District Nurse that if we ever noticed any swelling or puffiness of feet, ankles/lower leg then to make an appointment to see the doc ASAP.

This I did Friday morning at 8am on the dot. If you ring our health centre between 8-8.30am you are guarantee an appointment the same day. We pitched up at the Doc’s for 2pm. I accompanied dad into the Doc’s office as I always do because he’d ‘forget’ to mention various important things otherwise. And not because of senior moments, or incipient dementia, but because of his ‘don’t make a fuss/ stiff upper lip/grin and bare it’ mentality.
I have no such qualms, at least where other people are concerned (not so hot on making a fuss on my own behalf…. Hypocrite that I am!)

Anyway, after the Doc had diagnosed the beginning of oedema (water retention) due to dad’s dodgy ticker, and handed dad a prescription for water tablets, I then described the balls up over dad’s scan and showed him the letter from Milton Keans, and that dad had to wait another 6 weeks from the first appointment, which the hospital had never received notification of, meaning a total of 3 months of dad potentially leaking blood in his insides.

He looked well annoyed (not at me) but not surprised, and stated that this was happening a lot since they were forced to change from the old system to this new one. He hoped that it was just teething problems, but he didn’t look too hopeful about that.
He then rang the hospital, mumbling about why fix a system that isn’t broken, and got through after just a couple of rings. I’m convinced that GP’s have a hotline to hospitals as it take me ages, as a member of the public, to get through to the main reception, and then ages to get through to the appropriate dept.
Regardless, about two minutes later he puts the phone down, and wrote out a green chit for the hospital’s scan dept, which he handed to me.
He explained that it wasn’t a time appointment, but if we turned up at the hospital at 9am on Monday then dad’s scan would take place that day. We may have to wait a few hours but he wanted this scan sorted sooner rather than later. If the scan came back negative then the next step is for dad to visit a dietician to try and locate the source of dad not absorbing iron leading to his rather severe anaemia.

That suited us just fine. So we pitched up at the hospital at 8.45am this morning, complete with a book for me and newspapers for dad to read. As it was, we only had to wait about 1.5 hours before his name was called out.
As the Doc had red-flagged dad’s scan as an emergency, we should get the results in the next 3 days at the latest.
Thank god for that! Only 3 more days, at the most, of being plagued by scanitisis; the term coined (I think) by Jenny Lucas to describe that awful time waiting for scan results when your imagination runs amok envisaging the worst. That word she made up should definitely be in English Oxford dictionary. I bet there are thousands of people suffering from scanitisis, up and down the country, right now as I type.

I was going to type about my stopping smoking shenanigans (6 weeks from last Sunday…. Yippy!), The Kid’s rather remarkable progress, SM’s adventures in being a newbee Welfare Rights Officer, plus his wanabee efforts to become a councillor for his council ward next May, not to mention the extremely (in more ways than one) unusual birthday pressie he arranged for me in March.
But I’m too knackered so I’m off to bed for some much needed shut-eye instead…got a heavy day tomorrow.


For BB and Mrs Average, and anybody else interested.

http://www.wirralglobe.co.uk/news/15198 ... ef=rl&lp=1
Absolutely fascinating! Love the pictures. Hubby and I had a motorbike years and years ago. So long ago that crash helmets weren't compulsory!! Happy days, sigh.
687 posts