Tag Archives: blood test

Blood Tests, Reading Ease and Vegetables

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The day started with a blood test.  The nurse took part of a tube before it stopped, never to start again. As she moved the needle to restart the flow I had a sudden, sharp pain in the wrist. I mentioned this, thinking she may have hit a nerve, but was told the needle wasn’t deep enough to hit a nerve. Well, it was deep enough to hit something, which stopped when the needle was withdrawn.

We had trouble after taking the needle out as I suddenly bled profusely, and wouldn’t stop. That’s the nature of Warfarin – you bleed easily, except when a nurse is trying to take a sample.

With the original; hole no longer flowing, she tried again. This time we got 3/4 of a tube before it stopped. A certain amount of tube swapping took place and we ended up with enough blood to allow it to be poured from tube to tube to make a full one. If it isn’t full they call you back for another test, which is always irksome.

Anyway, it is done. The results are on target, which is good. Now I just need to wait for the letter to tell me when my next test is due. They send the results and dosing instructions out by email to mke sure they get to me quickly, but they only send the new appointment date by letter, when they also confirm everything else. This is slightly different from the Nottingham system where they rang if anything needed changing, and made the appointment at the same time. I can’t say which is a better system, as they each have advantages, but it takes a little getting used to.

Last week I helped someone with editing a book. One of the suggestions I made was that he should cut down sentence length and complexity. I’m not perfect at this, but I do know a lot more about the basics of good writing than my work might show. I cannot be bothered to use simple words all the time, remove all adverbs or cut out all the verbal tics. I write for pleasure and don’t want to spend half my time sorting out the faults. This is me, this is my writing and these are my thoughts. I’m faulty and I’m happy with that.

Anyway, I fed the first section of this post through a couple of  online readability calculators. They calculate mysterious figures with strange names. However, they seem to agree that I am writing reasonably comprehensible words and am very slightly above the ideal scores. However, this still leaves me writing at about t5he level of a Harry Potter book, so I’m happy with that. It’s easy enough for adults to understand but not too basic.

Foodwise, we had our standard breakfast and sandwiches for lunch, so didn’t add anything to the food numbers. The evening meal was a Chinese-style rice dish with green beans, sweetcorn, mushrooms, spring onions, pineapple and broccoli.  It also had ginger, garlic and mango chutney, though probably not enough to count. It didn’t have peppers because, in the last couple of days, they have become inedible. This is embarrassing and I hate when I let it happen. They were too bad even for soup.

I was on 23 yesterday, and am now on 27. I have three days to find three more. I’m thinking of vegetable hash tomorrow – sweet potato, swede and cabbage will carry me across the line, which will be good for the first week.

I have mixed feelings about it as a system, but if it starts me thinking about food again, it will be worthwhile. We became a bit casual about nutrition over the summer. We had plenty of salad but teamed it up with too much processed meat and pork pies.

 

Birds, Blood and Butterflies

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Green Woodpecker feeding on ants

Julia walked out of the back door this afternoon with a jug of water to refill the bird bath. As she did, she disturbed a Green Woodpecker, which was foraging on the arid, tussocky wasteland we call a lawn.

When my parents lived here they saw one in the garden too, but they aren’t a species known for liking gardens and I had resigned myself to never being able to record one for the BTO Survey. We do have them nearby, in the belt of trees about 20 yards from the house, and we have seen them a couple of times (and heard them frequently), but, as I say, they don’t often visit gardens. Having said that, they are on the BTO list of commonly seen garden birds.

We could, if Julia hadn’t gone out with the water, have missed it completely. It is the 22nd species of bird we have seen in the garden since we moved in. I’m sure there are people with more impressive totals, but I’m quite impressed. It was a slow start and it needs some work to improve it a s a wildlife garden, so I am happy so far.

Kites fly over (we aren’t allowed to count them unless they land), there are sparrowhawks about in the area and there must be chaffinches and sparrows (someone has sparrows on their feeders about quarter of a mile away).  We’ve also had parakeets flying over. I’m hoping that with time we may eventually persuade them to land and allow us to record a few more types.

Green Woodpecker feeding on the floor

We had a cat yesterday, which is a new one for the Mammals list. This is not such an impressive list – Grey Squirrel, Brown Rat, Rabbit, Domestic Cat. It looks well fed so we are hoping it won’t do too much damage.

We also have ten species of butterfly recorded. I can definitely get a few more in with some extra planting.

We’ve also eaten our own beans, courgettes, tomatoes and rhubarb, which isn’t bad for a few pots. I had intended doing more, but I’ve had a very lazy year. We’ve also had some figs from a tree at Nene Valley Railway and one damson from our own tree. It seems not to have appreciated the move. Julia has also made Lavender bags from our Lavender, and is currently selling them to help with funding the cafe.

I had a blood test this morning and am still waiting for the result (it’s the one for the Warfarin, where they usually ring back in the afternoon. It’s getting a bit late, but I am trying not to worry.  The new surgery seems nice – it’s clean and the staff are friendly. The nurse was a bit stand-offish, but they often are. I imagine she will soon start telling me off for not looking after myself. Unfortunately, the impending phone call means I have to carry my phone about, and that, in turn, means that I will carelessly leave it somewhere random as I move around the house.  I will be back again on Friday – different blood test for different specialist. I am, so far, giving it an 8 out of 10.

Later, checking my emails, I am told the blood test result is not in.  Ah well . . .

Green Woodpecker shots are some I took on the farm.

Greenfinch

Rage, rage etc . . .

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Photo by ThisIsEngineering on Pexels.com

Yes, you know the one. Dylan Thomas. Old age. Rage. I’m in one of those funny moods again.

Have you ever had one of those days when you just want to give up? I spent last night with a head crammed with things to write about but couldn’t for the life of me make anything into a remotely interesting post. I have a stack of things to do, just to keep up, and the problems of the world also seem to have descended on me. Sometimes it just happens.

The anticoagulant service has messed up on my testing. It isn’t their fault. The IT in the blood testing department went down a couple of weeks ago and although my test was due the day after they restarted, it seems to have been caught up in the general mess. The nurse who tested did OK, the lab tested it, but nothing happened. That’s what happens when you get giant organisations. It’s also what happens when these organisations don’t invest in new equipment. The trouble is that the NHS can’t afford new equipment. They are being challenged on all fronts. Nurses want more money, doctors want more money, people want treatment for fertility and gender issues (neither of which is actually an illness). People want inquiries because they don’t think they are getting good service, people want expensive drugs, people want compensation when things go wrong.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

And the final result is that they don’t have robust IT systems so my blood test goes missing.

Now, before you all start complaining about my insensitivity, yes, I know that each of those problems is serious, if not actually tragic for the people who suffer. I know we all want more money. I am, however, able to access the pay scales of the NHS online and I have family who work for the NHS and I can tell you that compared to shop assistants and and care workers NHS staff don’t do too badly.

The bottom line is that the NHS, even if it took all the money in the country, would not be properly funded. The demands we make on it are just too high and, frankly, unrealistic.

And that’s before we look at the demands of education, defence, police, infrastructure and all the other things we take for granted. Or before I start to discuss my First World Problems of lawyers, moving house, health and vegetables.

I’m hoping that, having spent my morning in the company of a list and some self-discipline, I have sorted out a few of my problems. By tonight I may be back as a fully functioning human being rather than a zombie. Then I can start to sort out the problems of the world.

And here’s another version to play me out. I may have it read at my funeral, if I can find a suitable Welshman to read it. And if I have a funeral. Those cheap plans where they take you away in a van and burn the body are looking very attractive as I embrace the world of living off a pension.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

 

Another Quick Note

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Valentine’s Day on the Farm

My hands feel a lot better. However, they still aren’t great and I am having to be careful not to knock the right hand or try to do too much with it.

I went for a blood test this morning, which went well. I then picked up something for Julia, which also went well. It’s nice to feel useful, and it’s not a feeling I often have any  more.

Back home, I rand Urology, using the number that came with one of the recent letters. I got through quite quickly. They don’t seem to have had the letter I sent (though I’m suspicious of this) and they tel;l me they only have a record of one letter being sent. As I was told yesterday, I have an appointment at the end of April. They acknowledge there were two letter and I was given the wrong information, but this doesn’t mean they will bring the date forward. I will just have to stay lucky and/or hope for a cancellation.

I am now going to make notes and send letters off again. One will be to the Urology address given on the letter (which is very like the one I used before) and the second will be via email to the people who deal with complaints. I don’t like making official complaints but they messed up and as a result my consultation is put off for three months. I don’t think it’s a fair way to treat patients. I also think their contact procedures need altering to make it easier to make contact.

Bread

To be fair, they picked up the phone quite quickly at the Urology Department and did seem to listen, even if they couldn’t do anything.

However, when you look up the consultant in charge of the team, their online presence is almost entirely about their private practice. I have a feeling the NHS, and patients who hve to be seen for free, don’t form a large part of his professional life.  That has always been one of the problems with the NHS.

Then I went back to the surgery to see a doctor. This appointment was to discuss blood test results. It was, as usual, inconclusive, and they will test again in three months.

Soup maker with rammed earth wall in the background – oh happy days!

We have a thing at the shop where customers, and my workmate, query why seemingly identical items are priced differently. My reply – pricing is an art and not a science and there is no reason for prices to be identical. We aren’t buying stuff from wholesalers and we aren’t selling items with a recommended retail price or closely competing rival (like supermarkets). Our price  will vary according to what we paid, what we think the market price is, and even what the weather is like.

I imagine that diagnosis is very much like that, and sometimes only a second test will show the pattern which unlocks the answer. Patience, weight loss and leafy green vegetables should do the trick. Of course, lots of leafy green vegetables will also play havoc with my Warfarin – nothing is ever simple.

Sheepdog in training

The pictures are from February 2016 and have nothing to do with Urology or the NHS.

 

A Good Day in which Bad Things Happened

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Crocus at Nottingham

Now, where was I?  I’ve had a message from NHS on my phone telling me that I have  new appointment with Urology for the end of April and can expect a letter shortly. I’ve had a letter, which tells me something completely different and which answers none of the questions I asked have been answered but there are a few phrases thrown in which appear to be fudging round the issue. I would say, looking at it, that they have had the letter, decided not to treat it seriously, throw in a few phrases like “administrative error” (without actually admitting one).

The letter, which arrived next day, tells me I must ring them to arrange a further appointment or they will remove me from the list.

It appears that the letter mentioned in the phone message is not the one that arrived. So yet again, I have two contradictory letters. Fortunately, though uncomfortable, I am not in poor health as a result. However, if this carries on much longer I might be.

Daffodils

I’ve also had two other phone calls. One told me that a recent urine sample shows signs of an infection and in view of my recent medical history I should probably have antibiotics. That might explain why I have been feeling under the weather recently, but apart from that vague feeling I have had no sign of illness. The other wanted me to make an appointment for a face to face discussion of my recent blood tests. This is driving Julia mad, as she suspects it means something bad is about to happen.

I assume that if something bad was about to happen they wouldn’t leave it for two weeks. However, I won’t make too many predictions because if it does turn out to be bad I don’t want to look like an idiot.

Tulips

Despite all this, the actual big news of the day is a rejection. It’s probably  good thing, as it has given me something to moan about instead of the NHS. It was a submission I nearly didn’t make at the end of last month. It features a guest editor, a submission limit of three tanka (rather than the usual 10), and a theme.

I have not had a lot of luck with guest editors over the years, though there is no sensible reason why they should be more difficult to satisfy than regular editors. Three poems, which is a standard number for anthologies and competitions, always seems to give you a lower chance of acceptance than magazines allowing ten, though again, if they are good enough, one would be plenty. And finally, the theme. I hate themes and often avoid submitting when they are required. I write poems. Themes are more like writing exercises.

Early irises at Harlow Carr

It’s always annoying to get a rejection, particularly in the middle of a good run, but these things happen. It’s also annoying to get rejected when I didn’t hold out high hopes in the first place. It is too easy, as I used to do as a beginner, to blame circumstances and develop a myth about certain things. There is no reason why a guest editor should be difficult, or why just submitting three should reduce my chances of acceptance.

The prejudice against themes, I will retain. They are fair enough in anthologies but I see little use for them in other publications.

It’s tempting to go off on a rant about other things i don’t like in making submissions, but I will resist the temptation. If poems are good enough they will be accepted.

Celandines

However, as I was told today, acceptance is subjective and another editor may have made a different choice. That’s meant to be encouraging, and implies that my submission is good enough to be selected by a different editor. Unfortunately, read another way, it implies that no matter how brilliant the poem, the spectre of rejection is always there if an editor take as against it.

The day, despite the NHS and rejection, was excellent, but that will have to wait for another post, as this is heading for 700 words and I need to get to bed.

The pictures will be spring flowers from various years. The crocuses, and even a few daffodils are appearing and this is one of my favourite times of year.

Japanese Quince – Arnot Hill Park

A Wednesday of Mixed Fortunes

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The photos today are a robin perching on a bucket. It spent all day in the polytunnel in the MENCAP gardens yesterday and seemed quite happy to share the space with the group. The blackbird which was also in there was not comfortable and spent several minutes bouncing off the walls before escaping. That, I suppose, is why robins appear on Christmas cards and blackbirds get baked into pies.

Julia managed to get these two shots which, I think, are cheered considerably by the bucket. It’s a shame the robin didn’t pose for her, but you can’t have everything.

Today has not been conducive to deep thought. I have spoken to the central appointments people t o establish why I didn’t get my telephone appointment yesterday and, as expected, they told me that it was meant to be a face to face appointment.

“When I rang before I was told it was a telephone appointment.” I said.

“Ah, let me look. No, it was changed.”

“When?”

“Er . . .”

I summarise, but you get the general idea. It had taken me over half an hour to get connected and I was due for my blood test so I had to cut things short without getting an answer. No change there, I swear that customer services training in the NHS is 90% about not answering or incriminating yourself.

The blood test went well, so things weren’t all bad. Now we just need to see what the results look like. They weren’t good last week.

Finally, I’ve been looking at houses for sale in Country Life Magazine. Two of the week’s selection have moats. These are not just ordinary houses. I’m not sure I need a moat, as it just seems like a step too far in both gardening and Health & Safety terms. I like this one – the former home of Sir Quentin Blake, famous illustrator.

Robin on a Bucket – photo by Julia.

I Remembered!

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Julia takes Christmas more seriously than I do

I remembered what I couldn’t remember yesterday. I had a text in the morning telling me that they surgery had cancelled my blood test at short notice. This was annoying fo  number of reasons, including that I am already a week late after working Wednesday last week. My appointment had been for 8.20 (which wouldn’t have been my first choice to be honest) and they had no more appointments that day. So, feeling pessimistic, I rang the surgery to reschedule. I was number four in the queue, then three then two, then one . . .

Whoever was in front of me took ages. They must have been asking something very complicated. I stayed at Number One in the queue . . .

. . . and waited . . .

. . . and tried to keep cheerful whilst waiting, and as the tinny music played . . .

. . . and got through.

I was cheerful and polite and came away with an appointment for 11.40 this morning. It seemed they did have another appointment today after all, and at a much more convenient time.

Christmas in a Tin? See above.

As a result, I was able to stay in bed until 9.00 (clutching the new tartan duvet around my ears) and have bacon sandwich before pottering off, yielding blood at the second attempt and returning home.

I hve thoroughly enjoyed my day so far. It’s  little cold, and the screen was still iced up at 11.20 but  apart from that all is good.

I’ve also found my methotrexate tablets. I’ve missed a week and that really makes a difference in winter, but I found some when looking through my bag. At first I thought they were the ones I knew I had lost, but they aren’t, because the box is different. These are not the ones I know I have lost, these must be the ones that puzzled me a few months ago when I ran out unexpectedly. I must have taken them away with me when we went to Norfolk.

A Quercus Christmas

I am going to have to introduce a memory support system where I  use one big box for tablets, keep a diary and, as Derrick suggested, photograph stuff to remind me.

This, in answer to a question I asked earlier in the week, is when I admit I am getting old.

Imperfection is the essence of a handmade Christmas. I refer, of course, to the wreath rather than Julia, who.like Mary Poppins, is practically perfect in every way. I pointed out that she looks very young in this photo. She pointed out that since this picture was taken she has had to put up with me for another eight years.

Apples

News of an Old Blogger

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I had a nice surprise tonight when I checked my emails – Charlie Robinson, who used to blog as Charliecountryboy, popped up on Linkedin. I rarely get any use from it but I’ve now reconnected with two people I’d lost touch with so it’s quite useful.

He says:

I have published my first novel. The Siege of Mr Khan’s Curry Shop. I am presently working on a sequel and a separate collaboration novel. ‘If I Were You’, a romantic drama spanning two decades. 10k, Half Marathon, Marathon and Ultra Distance runner and member City of Hull AC. Passionately believe in challenging and motivating myself and others to achieve their best.

He also says he’s been short-listed in a short story competition (top 10) so it looks like he’s doing OK.

Apart from that I’ve napped, had a blood test (which I have already mentioned) and watched TV. made a few notes for new poems (based on my stay in A&E) and watched more TV.

Late in the afternoon i was roused from a nap by a ringing sound which I recognised, after a few rings, as my phone. In the other room. Missed the call, rang back and was told vie a recorded message, that they would ring back.

What could it be?

It turned out to be my blood test results. Not the ones from this morning, but the ones from 3am on Tuesday morning while I was in A&E. They may be slow, but they are thorough. The ones that were done this morning have got lost. To be fair, I did forget to take my form with me, though I did make a call to alert them to this. I can’t be the only person who forgot their card.

Gladstone Pottery Stoke on Trent

And Now – Part 2

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This is Part Two of the post I wrote in the early hours of the morning.

At that point I was still struggling, but a couple of hours later, things seemed to improve. It wasn’t a great improvement but it was enough to give me some hope. This morning I felt better again, and was pleased to note a distinct improvement in the quality of my urine, which is where I will stop. There are, I’m sure, websites and specialist journals devoted to the subject, but for general purpose, lightweight blogging, which is where I consider my blog fits, “improved”  will suffice.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

Having said that, you might be amused by this short article (written by a proper scientist rather than a blogger with a questionable sense of humour). She treats it in a much less flippant manner than I would. I think I may have thought of a profession for the historical detective novel I keep thinking of writing.

I had a blood test this morning (does the joy never cease).  I’m now waiting to see what problems arise from this, as nothing in the NHS is ever simple. There are two sorts of nurse in our surgery – the ones who talk, listen and do their best to help. And the ones who are brisk, talk over you, and work to their own agenda. I’m not so keen on the second sort, though I would forgive them if they seemed to offer a better service than the first sort. They don’t.

Meanwhile, I am on the mend, so can’t complain too much.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

As an aside, they often say that the symptoms of confusion in the elderly are a sign of a urinary tract infection rather than actual dementia and I can now confirm this. The pain/panic/symptoms on Monday completely took away my ability to concentrate. Yesterday, with symptoms and sleep deprivation I had severe problems concentrating and keeping up with conversations. Today, despite improvements i’m conscious that I’m dragging my feet in mental terms (though my ability to mix metaphors remains strong).

It seems that I have perpetually linked bladder problems with soft fruit in the mind of one of my blog readers (sorry Derrick!). Let’s see what comments I get from using these pictures . . .

Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com

Early Morning Blood Test

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After writing the post on rejection last night I wrote another post ready for today and then wrote two haibun. I still have the completed post ready to go, but am going to write this first as  I’m up early and I’m alert.

This was due to having a 7.00 blood test appointment. To get ready for that I drank two lots of water and did a couple of dozen squats to get the blood moving. The form was not good, and I had to hang on to the furniture to do them but when the needle went in I bled for Britain. There was so much blood it was actually filling the tube and there was extra running down my arm. I was so alert by that time that I booked myself in for a shingles vaccination in a couple of weeks. I could have had it next week but two weeks allows me to get a Wednesday appointment and  will probably synchronise with my next blood test.

Anyway, I wasn’t going to write about blood tests or vaccinations, I was intending to write about rejections. I have, as you know, been rejected twice by haiku magazines. One short-listed three, so I used the remaining seven as the basis for my next submission. With the second return I and another rejection of five others, I have about 20 haiku hanging about.

Now, there are two ways to write haibun. One, which I normally do, is to write the prose then write one or two haiku to fit. It can be tricky but I find it natural and never even realised there was another way until I read an article  The other way, recommended by some very good writers, is to write the haiku first then write the prose to suit. Last night, using three of the returned haiku, I wrote two haibun. It didn’t feel quite right but I’m sure I could get used to it. The big advantage is that by the time you get to the end of the prose you know you already have the haiku ready and the poem is finished. Doing it my normal way it can take me a month to write the haiku and complete the piece. And the best bit – I have a use for many of my returned haiku!

When you have lemons, as they say, make lemonade.

My Orange Parker Pen