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The day started badly. Knowing that I had a moderately early appointment for a blood test, I tried to get an early night (by my insomniac standards), woke at five feeling hot (some days the heating feels hotter than others) and ended up unable to get back to sleep.
Eventually I got up, answered a few emails, made breakfast, woke Julia (who had no trouble sleeping this morning) and set off for the doctor. The road was closed, but the diversion signs were clear. While we were following the diversion I mentioned to Julia it seemed a strange sort of route, but didn’t think any more of it until we got to a sign that sent us back the way we had come from, and took us right back to the start of the detour. Other people were ignoring the signs, so we did. There was no road closure and no need to use another route. Strange . . .
We were still early despite this and I secured a good seat in the waiting room (the high, wide one with arms). It’s ideal for large, creaking people like me, but is usually taken by someone who clearly doesn’t need it. And today, instead of being able to enjoy it, I was called through early.
The nurse, when I asked, told me the roadworks have been like that for three weeks, nothing has happened and they are beginning to suspect an elaborate joke.
It’s Christmas . . .
I had to have two blood tests, one the normal INR test, the other a repeat of the one I did a month ago to allow me to keep having anti-arthritis drugs. For the second time the NHS has failed to access the results and are accusing me of not having the test done. I don’t mind that too much, but I object to them threatening to take the drugs away because of something that is their fault. The telephone call I made to their answering machine bordered on terse.
On getting home I sat at the computer, picked up my glasses and dropped something on the floor. I couldn’t see what it was, so I put the glasses on and turned to the screen. The screen was badly blurred and I found I couldn’t focus. For a moment, I admit I panicked. Then I realised that the frame had split and it was a lens that had fallen to the floor.
That was a relief. It’s annoying that it had broken but I buy them by the box from Amazon and still have several pairs yet. It’s probably time to order another box. So I did. I could have had some which block blue light, which are supposed to be better for computer users, but I checked on-line and there is actually no evidence to support this, just people trying to sell more glasses.
Glasses from Amazon. With hindsight, the zebra pattern was a mistake.
Nor did I buy the set of stainless steel dental tools that would allow me to clean my own plaque. Very tempting at just under £7 a set, but common sense dictates against buying cheap tools and starting to prod around in a mouth of ageing teeth. I have the same feelings about expensive tools too.
Time to make lunch now, so I will go.
Reading glasses in every room and in the car is always a good idea. I have had lenses fall out, too.
🙂 Another peril of ageing nobody told me about. I blame it on having a big face – it eventually breaks the frames.
I liked your eye problem story a lot. I had a bit of a problem when playing music this evening, but it was solved when one of the other players gently suggested that it might help if I turned my stand light on. It was a miracle cure.
I bought job lot of glasses from the local chemist and try and have one in every room.
Yes, light is a factor for me too these days. I tried carrying glasses round my neck on a strap but it gets in the way. I try to have a pair in every room, but am bad at leaving them there and they all end up by the computer or TV or bed. Or on my head. It’s more and more frequent that I push a pair up and find that there is already a pair there. Only once every few months, but it never used to happen.
I have a ‘peeper keeper’ for my half glasses which I wear so that I can look at Mrs. T over the breakfast table and do the crossword at the same time. It is useful, but it does mean I often carry the glasses by accident into rooms where there is already another pair waiting.
I have considered half-glasses, but after years of antique dealing I perfected the art of looking over the top of my glasses and saying “How much?” in a slightly incredulous tone.