annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


Pointless and unchecked, soz

I'm suspending my daily five a day until after my brother's funeral, as everything is fucking weird and it's allowed to be in times like these. I will write as and when - I don't want to lose the habit again as I do love blogging even when no one is reading. I do it to have something scandalous to read in my old age, though I'm a bit too fucking discreet to provide much scandal.

Yesterday morning sister in law and I went to the funeral home to make the arrangements - everything has been delayed for tedious reasons and the funeral won't be till April 5th now. It was so awful. I hated it and so did she, but we did it and made good choices for him. Afterwards I went to the beach and that's what I'm going to bang on about for quite a while now. I went the day before and it was like this:


entirely devoid of humanity but full of gulls, rising in massive fluttery white clouds, making me feel at one with the way things are. It's the sea glass beach, where I stumble across things like this:


So, all good, there I am on the beach, walking along, finding sea glass, breathing in the salty air. Even better - I spot a bundle of black fabric and remember that someone has mentioned a woman making art out of scraps of fabric washed up on the beach, so I pick it up. It turns out to be a T shirt:


We have a sign in the kids' field at Glasto that says blah blah blah, brilliant. I hang it on a bit of sea defence and take that picture. In the distance I spot a person in a bobble hat and am squinting to see if it's my new pal T, who brought me to this beach, and don't pay attention as I step over the sea defence:D7B0C38F-4A49-48FF-A11E-9579ABB1D2E8

(I took this pic intending to get some help dragging that net up the beach - it was massive and weighed a ton). I don't lift my foot high enough, catch it in the metal, and fall, scraping my shin comprehensively along the rusty metal. I land hard, face down, and the fucker that might have been my pal, but wasn't, looks at me then turns away and walks off. Can you believe it? Watching an old woman fall over and turning away. Arsehole. I got up and limped back to the carC58B37A0-0C19-4F36-8B04-74B6DB7F9877 where I found all this under my trousers. I didn't have anything in the car to clean it with so I drove home - didn't have anything there either. No time to go and buy anything as ED and I were due at the theatre for the live streaming of Lady Windermere's Fan, (directed by Kathy Burke and starring Jennifer Saunders and the guy who played Jeffrey the butler in Fresh Prince). Off I go to the care home, to pick up ED, knowing they'd have a first aid kit and even a first aid person.

They did and they did, and he cleaned it and bunged a dressing on and off we went. The play was OK, but I was agitated and took us to the wrong theatre first, then panicked about us being late and not being allowed in till the end of a scene and all that, but it was fine and I pushed ED in the wheelchair all over town with no problems.

This morning there was a dark shape on the dressing so it had still been bleeding and needed changing. To the chemist, to buy dressings. We chat a bit, I tell her what happened - as soon as she hears "rust" she panics, calls the pharmacist, and they agree that I must be seen by a medic. The GP is next door so I call in there - no appointments available there but they agree I must be seen today, so they make an appointment for me this evening at another clinic. It's going to be tight for time as I am going with the care workers to the hydrotherapy pool with ED and some of the other residents. I am instructed not to get in the pool as my wound will contaminate the water. Fuck.

We go to the pool, a trip which is both stressful and uplifting. One of the lads freaks out about being in the wind and cries with total abandon, like a toddler. I've not seen him like this and find it very distressing. ED has her eyes closed for the whole trip, there and back, including in the water. When asked if she's enjoying it, she squeezes them tight shut, which is her signal for yes, so ... maybe...  But still. The others love it, and shriek with pleasure, kicking and splashing about in the pool, each cradled safely in the arms of a staff member. There's no hydro-therapist though - I got that wrong. I help get ED dressed, which is why I am there - they need a staff member per resident, plus one, as no one can be unattended in the pool but it takes two people to dress them - then I hurtle off, knowing I will be late for my appointment, tired, stressed, hungry, all that.

When I get there, just a bit late, the fucking receptionist is packing up, the cleaner is there, mopping and wiping, the doctors have gone. The receptionist is sure there was no other appointment, but I am sure there is, she checks on her computer and the fucking lot at my surgery have accidentally booked me in for tomorrow. Receptionist asks me what it's about, I tell her, she says, ooh, it does need checking, either go to A&E or phone 111 (NHS helpline) and they can make you an appointment at the hospital's 24 hour  minor injuries clinic. I decide on the latter, go home, get on the phone, am told the helpline is busy and that I will 'probably' be answered within twenty minutes.

Jeeeeez. When I finally get through they say, no, they can't make appointments and there is no 24 hour minor injury clinic at the local hospital anyway (and why are people still being told this?), but they can do an assessment on the phone and advise me. They do. When I mention the word rust, she stops asking questions and tells me to go to A&E. Not interested in it being rust that is under the sea most of the time, just exposed twice a day at low tide, washed clean by nice salty water... You need it seen, she says.

Off I go to A&E. The waiting room is fucking packed, bursting at the seams, standing room only. I say to the receptionist, 'This is going to take hours, isn't it, four or five hours?' She agrees, asks me what the problem is. I tell her, she says to wait for triage, there's only a few in front of me for that. I wait. The triage nurse says I need it seen by a doctor. He won't change the dressing as it needs to be seen by a doctor.

I go home. Fuck that. Instead, I've written it all down here and I don't know why as it's taken me hours and I'd probably have been seen by now, but they can fuck off. It will probably be all right. They operate on a worst case scenario. I'll see if I can get seen tomorrow, but I have a dentist appointment at ten and I won't get seen before then. It may get infected, but if it does, it fucking does.

12:58 a.m. - 22.03.18


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