Three weeks have passed since I was in hospital being told I have to have a Hickman line put in. In theory then I should be hearing from them anytime now as the consultant said he expected to get me back within three to four weeks. All this waiting for a letter or the phone to ring has made me think and I've totted up all the things I'm hanging around for, it is quite a list.
News from the Brompton about my Hickman line
News from Harefield about transplant
News from the DWP regarding my DLA claim
News from Halfords regarding my complaint.
News of whether I have got any Olympic tickets.
Well my wait for Olympic tickets is over as I have just checked my bank account and found that no money has been taken. Bummer! Ah well I'll probably get a better view from home anyway. Watched the news in growing disbelief at lunch time as they interviewed this upper class banker type who had applied for £36,000 worth of tickets but ONLY secured £11,000 worth. He then went on to imply that anyone who had not got a ticket must be stupid not to think of his brilliant idea on how to in effect cheat the system. 'Well it was quite obvious to me that like most lotteries you gamble more than you can afford.' IDIOT! I for one could not afford to gamble hundreds of pounds so only applied for what I was vaguely interested in, I suspect the majority did exactly the same.
I was even more infuriated to find out that we are the only country allocating tickets in this way. In Germany for instance you can choose your event, the day you want to go AND pick your seat, pay once you've made your choice and a confirmation is sent to you within a couple of days. Why the hell couldn't we do it that way? I mean when you come to think of it, what sort of system expects you to pledge hundreds of pounds (in most cases) and not even know what you are getting until a month later. If the ticketing is any indication of the organizational skills of those in charge the event itself is likely to be a complete debacle. As my sons said when I broke the news, at least I won't be around when something goes horribly wrong, I can watch it all from the safety and comfort of home. Amen to that.
I sent an e-mail to my PH team to ask if any progress had been made and the answer doesn't really tell me much.
'Our Pulmonary Hypertension coordinator has requested that your case be heard as urgent, and we hope to hear this week. I will keep you up to date.'
They hope to hear 'this week', I wonder if the PCT have any idea what 'urgent' means. Isn't it strange, two months ago I dreaded having to have a Hickman line, now I cannot wait. Funny old business sometimes this PH.
I have finally succumbed to Jeremy Kyle. I went to take my meds this morning and flicked on the TV to watch Sky news while taking it, as it my habit. I'd forgotten that I was glued to Britain's Got Talent the previous evening and just hit TV instead of punching in the channel. There was an argument going on, isn't there always with Jeremy Kyle, about, actually I never did work out what it was about, and I just couldn't help myself. I was glued. Hopefully this is just a passing blip, my family put up with me watching a lot of naff stuff but I think Kyle would be a show to far, even for them.
Smirnoff, I am pleased to report, appears to have forgiven me for his burnt whiskers and insisted on cuddles this afternoon which for him meant leaping onto my desk and sitting on my keyboard. He does look funny, all lopsided but he smells lovely, a mixture of match smoke and lavender. As a sorry I got my sewing machine out and made him a brand new catnip bag to play with, which he promptly ignored, stalking off as though he was above such obvious bribery. Fickle isn't in it.
Andrew came home from karate last night with a swollen nose, he had landed face down during one of the fights. Thankfully I don't think it is broken and he can still breath through it. Once again he has refused to get it checked out so I can only hope everything is OK. I must admit I expected two black eyes this morning but the only signed of anything amiss is a slightly swollen nostril. He must be blessed is all I can say because if it were me I'd be head to foot in plaster by now.
Laurence announced today that he has a four day weekend this week, lovely, it will be nice, and unusual, for us to have so much time to spend together. Sods law will be call from the hospital tomorrow morning telling me to go straight in.
News from the Brompton about my Hickman line
News from Harefield about transplant
News from the DWP regarding my DLA claim
News from Halfords regarding my complaint.
News of whether I have got any Olympic tickets.
Well my wait for Olympic tickets is over as I have just checked my bank account and found that no money has been taken. Bummer! Ah well I'll probably get a better view from home anyway. Watched the news in growing disbelief at lunch time as they interviewed this upper class banker type who had applied for £36,000 worth of tickets but ONLY secured £11,000 worth. He then went on to imply that anyone who had not got a ticket must be stupid not to think of his brilliant idea on how to in effect cheat the system. 'Well it was quite obvious to me that like most lotteries you gamble more than you can afford.' IDIOT! I for one could not afford to gamble hundreds of pounds so only applied for what I was vaguely interested in, I suspect the majority did exactly the same.
I was even more infuriated to find out that we are the only country allocating tickets in this way. In Germany for instance you can choose your event, the day you want to go AND pick your seat, pay once you've made your choice and a confirmation is sent to you within a couple of days. Why the hell couldn't we do it that way? I mean when you come to think of it, what sort of system expects you to pledge hundreds of pounds (in most cases) and not even know what you are getting until a month later. If the ticketing is any indication of the organizational skills of those in charge the event itself is likely to be a complete debacle. As my sons said when I broke the news, at least I won't be around when something goes horribly wrong, I can watch it all from the safety and comfort of home. Amen to that.
I sent an e-mail to my PH team to ask if any progress had been made and the answer doesn't really tell me much.
'Our Pulmonary Hypertension coordinator has requested that your case be heard as urgent, and we hope to hear this week. I will keep you up to date.'
They hope to hear 'this week', I wonder if the PCT have any idea what 'urgent' means. Isn't it strange, two months ago I dreaded having to have a Hickman line, now I cannot wait. Funny old business sometimes this PH.
I have finally succumbed to Jeremy Kyle. I went to take my meds this morning and flicked on the TV to watch Sky news while taking it, as it my habit. I'd forgotten that I was glued to Britain's Got Talent the previous evening and just hit TV instead of punching in the channel. There was an argument going on, isn't there always with Jeremy Kyle, about, actually I never did work out what it was about, and I just couldn't help myself. I was glued. Hopefully this is just a passing blip, my family put up with me watching a lot of naff stuff but I think Kyle would be a show to far, even for them.
Smirnoff, I am pleased to report, appears to have forgiven me for his burnt whiskers and insisted on cuddles this afternoon which for him meant leaping onto my desk and sitting on my keyboard. He does look funny, all lopsided but he smells lovely, a mixture of match smoke and lavender. As a sorry I got my sewing machine out and made him a brand new catnip bag to play with, which he promptly ignored, stalking off as though he was above such obvious bribery. Fickle isn't in it.
Andrew came home from karate last night with a swollen nose, he had landed face down during one of the fights. Thankfully I don't think it is broken and he can still breath through it. Once again he has refused to get it checked out so I can only hope everything is OK. I must admit I expected two black eyes this morning but the only signed of anything amiss is a slightly swollen nostril. He must be blessed is all I can say because if it were me I'd be head to foot in plaster by now.
Laurence announced today that he has a four day weekend this week, lovely, it will be nice, and unusual, for us to have so much time to spend together. Sods law will be call from the hospital tomorrow morning telling me to go straight in.
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