Tag Archives: taxi

So Much to Do, So Little Time

Wooden Water Vole at Carsington

Woke up. Tested air temperature with tip of nose. Pulled three layers of duvet up around my face and went back to sleep. It is my final day of loafing, or recuperation, as I call it, and I see no advantage to getting up earlier than I have to.

Eventually I emerged, ate the beans on cheese on toast that Julia had prepared, ate the toast and marmalade she had made me for breakfast (the oranges are part of my five a day) and watched TV for a while.

It was Four in a Bed. After watching many episodes I can’t help wishing I had run a Bed & Breakfast instead of messing around as an antique dealer, gardener, pizza maker, shop assistant . . .

To be fair, it looks quite simple to run a B&B. Slightly more difficult to do it well, but isn’t that always the case?

Wooden Dragon at Carsington

I also wonder if we have finally run out of things to watch on TV if the best we have to offer is a programme on competitive hospitality. However, the best episodes are the ones which feature the human condition, such as the one today where one of the owners gave everyone a hard time, kept repeating that “the customer is always right” and repeatedly told us about his confidence and his high standards. Yes, you guessed it. His standards were not as high as he thought, anyone who criticised him was wrong and he eventually threw a hissy fit. I don’t like to see people being made unhappy. On the other hand, when they are the cause of their own unhappiness, it’s good TV. Shakespeare would have written it better, but the tragedy was there for all to see.

In truth, I spent too much time watching TV, and by the time I had rung the doctor to make a blood test appointment and book a COPD review, it was getting late. For those of you wondering when I got COPD, I’m not actually sure of that myself. It was mentioned as a cause of my problems, but until I had a text to book the review, I had no idea myself. I can’t wait until I get something serious and they let me know by sending me a link to the local hospice.

Then I had to arrange for the garage near the shop to supply a new tyre tomorrow. They are very good and will collect the car from the shop, do the job and return the car. Brilliant service for a man with a bad knee and a lazy disposition.

Finally, I rang for a taxi. It was a bit later than I had intended, but I still had time. Rang at 3.15, allow 10 minutes for a taxi, ten minutes for travel, ten minutes to walk from the entrance to X-Ray department – arrive five minutes before the appointment. It was probably better than my original plan of ringing at 3am, as they don’t want you cluttering the place up. Well, it would have been if the taxi firm had managed to send a taxi.

I’ve been using them for 30 years, since they were the local company. They have bigger offices now, a number of sign-written cars and a much more complicated phone system. If only the level of service was as good as it used to be.

Wooden Wizard and Dragon at Carsington

After 15 minutes I had an automated call to tell me they were doing their best. I rang to check what was happening and was told that they would be with me as soon as possible but the roads were crowded because it was “rush hour”. Well, it may get slightly busier, but unless you are on the ring road it’s not precisely a rush hour. And even if it was, it should hardly be a surprise.

Eventually, Just as I was preparing to ring the hospital, my car arrived.

I hate being late. I particularly hate being late when I allow  plenty of time for the trip.  The driver explained it was because of the amount of traffic. This would have been more convincing if there had been any traffic about.

Anyway, after a sit down in the waiting area, where I was able to view some interesting specimens of humanity, I had an X-Ray. That was interesting, as the radiologist bombarded me with questions about the amount of metal I may be wearing.

I took off my jacket (with zip), unhooked my glasses from the neck of my jumper, confirmed I had nothing in my pockets and that I didn’t wear jewellery, and heard her ask the next question . . .

Owl Sculpture – Harlow Carr

Did I have any underwear containing metal or underwiring?

Clearly they have some colourful characters going for X-Rays.

Pictures all contain the word “car” in the title. I was looking for cars to represent rush hour traffic. I clearly need a new system.

Owl Sculpture – Harlow Carr

Car, Garage, Senior Moment

They day has started in mixed fashion. The garage thinks that the fault on the car is probably a simple blockage which should be reasonably easy to fix, and inexpensive. Fingers crossed. I called a taxi (they have moved and it is now too far to walk) and this was a little more complex than usual.

Of course, in  my day, when cars were simple and lights were fewer, this wouldn’t have been a problem at all, and if it had a tap from a hammer or a quick twist of a spanner would have put it all to rights. faults these days tend to be in parts we never actually had in the 1970s.

It’s the first taxi I’ve taken in nearly 12 months and the system has changed. You have to ride in the back now. For a man who is over six feet tall, overweight (to say the least) and has a bad leg, this is not easy, even in a generously proportioned vehicle. With one of the small Japanese cars that taxi firms seem to favour it was  a cross between playing Twister and packing a holiday suitcase.

Eventually I got in and we set off. They have barriers now, rather like black cabs, but made out of flexible plastic and fixed with cable ties.

Five minutes later I remembered that I’d left my phone charging in the car.

Could I communicate through a mask and plastic barrier and then unravel myself to get the phone before doing it all again in reverse? No. I really couldn’t be bothered. I’m at home now. I’ve rung the garage from the land line to give them that number ( I really should have remembered the phone when I gave them  my mobile number). Now I’m going to email Julia to tell her I don’t have my phone with me. It would be easier to ring, but I don’t know her number.

All the numbers are stored in my mobile these days. Oh, what a to-do. I can feel myself turning into that elderly parent who seems constantly bemused by modern life and is a worry to the children…

Whining Wednesday

I went to hospital this morning – the (inaccurately named) Treatment Centre at The  Queen’s Medical Centre.

After a night worrying about being late I took a taxi and, as you do, found all my fears were groundless. I was then tested for blood pressure, height, weight and my ability to fill a small tube with urine.

I have blood pressure, height and weight, so that went well. The final part was trickier as I’d purposely not had a drink before going to hospital so I wouldn’t have to disappear to the toilet and have my name called in my absence. However, I did manage to provide a specimen, though not with any degree of accuracy.

The doctor then saw me. I had to drop my trousers. I moaned about not wanting to take my trousers down but they still made me do it.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It’s a flower – how should I know what sort?

Oh yes, the dignity of an elderly man (I’m dropping all this “middle-aged” nonsense as I’ll be lucky to make 80, let alone the 120 that “middle-aged” implies) comes second to a doctor wanting a look at my terra australis. How a pain in the finger becomes a viewing of my lower extremities I really don’t know.

The good news is that I finally have a diagnosis for the skin problem I’ve had for the last 15 years. It’s definitely psoriasis. This is mixed news. It seems they can possibly do something about it. On the other hand, all that time I spent learning to spell eczema has been wasted. This is all heading towards a diagnosis of psoriatic arthritis. Or gout. They haven’t ruled that out yet.In fact they haven’t ruled anything out, they have just sent me for more X-Rays and more blood tests. That is why, in the absence of any treatment, I consider the unit to be inaccurately  named.

The X_Rays went badly, and involved more dropping of trousers so they could get pictures of my lower back without a zip and belt buckle getting in the way. They also asked me if I could move further up the table. As my head was already touching the wall I had to say no. They also asked if I could flex my knees “like this” (accompanied by a wrenching of my ancient knees). I replied, quite reasonably I thought, that if I was able to flex my knees “like that” I wouldn’t be in need of the X-Rays. Fair point, I thought, but my words seemed to produce a slight drop in temperature within the room.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

This one might be an anenome

Then there was the blood test. The Phlebotomy room at the Treatment Centre is the best hidden department I’ve ever seen in a hospital. It has a small sign saying “Phlebotomy” over a solid door with a combination lock on it. I asked about how to gain access and was told to take a ticket from the machine and wait.

Machine?

It’s like a bollard with some badly sellotaped signage, not at all like the one with the big screen that says “Please take a ticket” at City Hospital.

That’s just over 500 words now so I’ll stop. There were plenty more moans in the day (after all, I’ve only just arrived at 11.30) but I think this sample will do.

I thought the flowers might lighten the moaning mood a little. I’m gradually easing into maximum misery mode.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Rudebekia – I know that one

 

 

 

 

Hospital,taxis and optimism

What did I do today?

I’m having difficulty working it out, to be honest. I did spend several hours in hospital having tests and filling in forms. I was also weighed, bled and patronised. The good news is that I am lighter than I was when I was weighed before Christmas and I will be able to replace the blood. As for the rest of it, they probably interpret it as me being irascible and curmudgeonly. They aren’t wrong.

The diagnosis is that I’m riddled with poor health, if not actually at Death’s door, and I need lots more pills, tests and treatment. This is strange, as I’m feeling pretty good and doing more exercise, so you’d think I was OK. It’s just that if you give doctors equipment they are going to look for a reason to use it.

Worst bit of the day was the taxi service. Their new automated system locked me out twicwe and I ended up being late, which raised my heart rate and blood pressure despite my best efforts.

On the way back it cost me more than the journey to hospital. I’m not sure why this should be, maybe it costs more going up hill.

The photos are from last year, just to remind us of what is to come. Unless you’re in the Southern hemisphere.

 

 

 

Calm before the storm

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I was just going to write a post remarking how quiet it was with the main taxi being late and four of the group not being here. We were actually able to hold a conversation at normal levels. It was so nice we didn’t bother to ring and find out where they were. (They would have texted if there was a problem – we know this from past experience).

However, at 10.27 the storm arrived.

Seven minutes later we have several shouted conversations in progress, the kettle going (there’s always a silver lining!), a serious case of hypochondria and a discussion on twin lamb disease, or Pregnancy Toxaemia if you want to be technical. That led on to a look at ketones, and the realisation that Twin Lamb disease is just like diabetes.

Life is never dull round here!

More later – just thought I’d get the day started.