Tag Archives: blood test

We appear in the Local Paper…

Yes, we’re in the paper, though there is more coverage, including pictures of all the staff, online.

You’ll never guess what I’m doing on the video clip. That’s right, I’m sorting shillings.

It’s my day off today. so I took Julia to lunch at Pizza Hut for the all you can eat buffet. I’m capable (as you may guess from the unflattering pictures in the link) of eating quite a bit of pizza. I also had a bowl of salad to keep things healthy. Tonight we are dining on soup.

Anyway, while we were there a lady with a child sat on the table behind us. She also ordered the buffet, then, when asked what the child would like, said just an extra plate. I suppose it was worth a try. The waitress politely pointed out the range of items on the menu specifically for children.

When last seen, the lady was on her third plate of pasta and the child was carrying his second bowl of ice cream back from the ice cream machine.

I’m constantly amazed at what people do with the buffet offer. We once saw another family group pile their plates with pizza slices and ask for a doggy bag. They were most annoyed to be told that it didn’t work that way with the buffet and they had to eat it or leave it.

It takes all sorts…

Back at home I had two letters, one told me I’d passed the blood test from yesterday and don’t need to go back for three weeks.

The other was from Rotherham. I nearly threw it away unopened, as I often do with letters that come from unknown sources. They are usually of no importance and, so far, no harm has ever resulted from this practice. However, I did open it this time, and found it was from the Chief Constable of South Yorkshire Constabulary.

“That’s nice,” I thought, “he’s writing to me to thank me for all the safe and careful driving I’ve done in my years of driving through South Yorkshire.”

But I was wrong.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Some people have no sense of gratitude.

Nottingham Post in the morning, Police Gazette by the afternoon.

Ah well!

Blood, worms and British Telecom

I regretfully parted with more of the red stuff yesterday morning. The phlebotomist stuck me in the painful place they’ve been using recently and drew three quarters of a tube before tutting, fiddling about and, finally, throwing the tube away. It was, it seems, not working properly.

For those of you not familiar with modern blood-letting, it is no longer necessary to put blood in a tube as it was when I first started. These days they have a tube that sucks the blood out. Or, in this case, sucks most of the blood out then stops.

If it doesn’t draw enough blood they can’t do the test, so they had to re-stab my arm and take another tube.

If I had a bad day, it was nothing compared to the bad day that a number of worms were having. After the night of constant rain there were dozens of large fat worms crawling around the footpaths. I’m not sure where they all came from, or why they decide that the footpath is suddenly the place to be.

What I do know is that when I arrived at hospital at 8.04, they were alive and mobile. When I left at 8.44 many of them were lying dead in the rain.

I blame the carelessly placed feet of the multitude of bustling NHS staff that always seem to be late for work as I make my way slowly along the path. It’s a rare day when I’m not overtaken by at least half a dozen of them as I hobble to Phlebotomy.

I have no evidence for this, as I wasn’t actually watching, but they are the only people likely to have the speed to trample worms underfoot. The rest of us move slower.

When you think about it the average worm is doing more for the planet than the average human, so we ought to take more care of them.

Meanwhile, talking of lowly creatures, and people who contribute nothing to the well-being of the planet, BT still hasn’t moved the shop phone number. They have, however, cut off the old number as of Monday, so we currently have a phone line and a number nobody knows.

Tuesday’s development was a letter informing us that they are going to provide us with an ex-directory number free of charge, because that’s what you want when you have a shop – a phone number that nobody can see.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

The shop front – with telephone number

 

 

In which a joke of questionable taste is told, coins are sorted and I am forced out of the way by a rude woman in the supermarket.

I decided to employ a sub-heading as I couldn’t convey it all in the title. (Added later: then I forgot to write a title! Senior Moment Alert!)

Last week, having failed the blood test, I received a panicky phone call from the anti-coagulation service. They do take things a bit seriously at times. All I did was forget a couple of pills and drift off target a bit – it’s not like I’m hovering at Death’s door. I’m not even at Death’s garden gate. In fact, I’m feeling quite perky.

As I get older I really ought to stop saying things like that, as I’m going to look pretty stupid if I drop dead tomorrow.

I’m pretty sure the anti-coagulation is working as I bled quite a bit when they pulled the needle out.

We had a visitor in the shop today, which was good as I hadn’t seen him for about ten years. He used to be a coin dealer, but he’s taken up a new career since then and now takes secular funeral services. He also told us one of the funniest jokes I’ve ever heard. Unfortunately I can’t repeat it.

It wasn’t rude and it didn’t feature bad language but it was, shall we say, in questionable taste, and looked at something from an unusual angle.

I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my seat.

Then I carried on sorting. Stamps, shillings and crowns. Ah, the glamour!

Finally, as you may have guessed from the first paragraph, I went shopping. It all went relatively well until I got to the checkout. The manned checkouts were all crammed, so I decided to use the self-service. They, it seemed, had been giving trouble all day, and the one I used queried six of my nine articles, necessitating the intervention of a staff member each time.

When all was done I started to leave the shop. As I got to the doorway a woman came up behind me and pushed past, which isn’t good when you’re using a stick for balance. She then made someone else swerve to avoid her then walked directly towards someone coming into the shop and made them stop the let her past.

She wasn’t being pursued, she was just very rude, arrogant and inconsiderate.

All this rush meant that she got to her car, started the engine and engaged reverse gear ready to escape.

Meanwhile, I put a bit of a spurt on.

And once I was behind her car, as she waited impatiently to reverse out, I walked behind her…very…very…slowly.

I don’t usually manage to get my own back, but today everything just fell right. And it felt good.

 

Thinking and Invention

I had some time to think today. Having changed blood testing days. and gone in earlier than usual,  I was surprised to find myself seventh in the queue. However, I used my time profitably and I’ve designed a new cycling suit for Tootlepedal. He had a fall from his bike recently and I think he needs some help from technology.

Basically, we are talking bubblewrap. You need something that is going to cushion a fall but not cause an unfortunate bounce, as rolling down a hill out of control is likely to do more damage than just falling flat on your face.

It will insulate him from cold and protect him from injury but will burst on impact without bouncing.

I have quite a lot of old bubblewrap put to one side, as I always think it will come in useful, so now all I need to do is ship it up to Scotland and get Mrs T to do the wrapping before she lets him out again.

I’m thinking that the ultimate development will be thermal bubblewrap underwear, and an appearance on Dragons’ Den. Hopefully I can persuade them to part with a large down payment and spend it on a Caribbean cruise before they catch up with me.

Next time I have a blood test to wait for I’m going to work on The Trolley Problem. It’s Number 6 on this list. I’m particularly keen on working out a solution to the part where they throw a fat man onto the tracks. It seems a touch unfair on the more portly amongst us (though I must obviously admit to a personal interest in the welfare of fat men).

However, it’s time for tea now. I made a fish pie last night, including dill, and I’m looking forward to eating it.  Philosophy is all very well, but fish pie is better.

Post Script

Sorry, I meant to mention this in the last post but forgot.

Blood test results arrived today – the target is 2.5. I scored 2.3. That’s about as good as it gets. It’s also another on target result, which should stop those annoying phone calls about my results being inconsistent. (They aren’t inconsistent – it’s just that the way the anti-coagulant team does the calculation).

Next test is two weeks away. Fingers crossed.

Stuff and Nonsense

It appears that the repeat blood test was because the previous one had been “unacceptable”. They usually use the word to describe a tube that wasn’t properly filled. I promise you that from where I was sitting there seemed to be plenty of blood in it.

That’s a coincidence, as the word “unacceptable” also figures in my view of events.

They managed to get a sample in only two attempts today, one attempt less than yesterday. As a result my cubital fossa is rather sore. That happens when the tests are close together.

Looking on the bright side, I’m not ill, the test is now done and I have learned a new word.

My next post will be more cheerful.

 

Blood Test Friday

I’m hoping this isn’t going to be part of a trilogy as two tests in two days is a lot of tests, particularly when they took three attempts yesterday. I’m hoping they will get it in one today, but history suggests otherwise. The insides of my elbows are already aching at the thought of it.

I could probably go down to the Queen’s Medical Centre for a test if I insisted. They have a machine that only takes a spot of blood from my finger tip.

Have to go now as I have an errand to do on my way to the test. Wish me luck.