Bed time stories rediscovered

I woke up two hours after going to bed to the slow torturous bleep of a smoke alarm. It was impossible to get back to sleep in between, getting up to empty my bladder, and I couldn't find the pack of ear plugs that Kath bought for me when I was last in A&E. Sheer torture. I had flashbacks about the three nights I spent in A&E following the stroke with different devices bleeping warning sounds as nurses did their night time rounds, an experience akin to a disturbing waking dream. Having lost three hours sleep, I got up at eight thirty loaded a rucksack with a breakfast picnic of fruit cake, banana and morning meds, then walked to St David's Hospital for a fasting blood cholesterol test. 

It was windy with an unpleasant drizzle of rain, weather to wreck a brolly with. I knew a 61 bus was due when I set out, and went to the nearest stop with a shelter, only to see the bus pass me by. If I'd turned toward the stop in the other direction, where the bus was headed, I'd have caught it as the road was blocked for several minutes by a large van, and the bus had to wait at the next stop before continuing its journey. I had to walk the full mile to the hospital. Fortunately it wasn't a timed appointment. Two other patients were queuing to have their blood taken at the outpatients phlebotomy clinic. I didn't have to wait long and was soon eating my picnic breakfast before leaving. Rather than wait fifteen minutes for a bus I walked home and had a second breakfast. 

The bleeping smoke alarm was still punctuating household peace, but Clare found the missing pack of ear plugs to relieve the anxious agony it generates. My hearing is still quite sensitive, to the point that loud high pitched sounds take me to the verge of pain, I was so grateful the ear plug pack wasn't missing, just hidden. It gave me an hour's respite before Darren, a 'Care & Repair' worker arrived to change the battery. Clare had contacted their help line while I was out. 

Matt the plumber's apprentice arrived at noon to install the replacement bidet we ordered a few weeks ago. Unfortunately the one we had installed eight years ago after my surgery to treat anal infection started to leak a few months ago and couldn't be repaired. I don't think either of us would want to do without a bidet now, as we got so used to using it. It turned out the job couldn't be completed as the piping attachments for joining the bidet to the water supply are American not European specification. A workaround or some kind of adapter is needed. This leaves us without an upstairs toilet over the weekend. We must be grateful the house has two.

While Clare was out after lunch, I recorded and edited Morning Prayer and Reflection for the second week of Easter, and made the video slideshow to go with it for posting to YouTube. Then I walked in Llandaff Fields for the best part of an hour, and finished watching the episode of 'Blanca' which I started last night, rather too late to finish before bed.

When Rachel and I last talked, she'd just read 'Jack's Tale', about her Great Grandfather's time in America, and worked with me to correct the typos she found. She mentioned the Reggie Rabbit stories I wrote and read to her and Kath at bed time when they were young. I promised to extract them from my digital archive and send them to her. Tonight I got around to doing this, and re-read them for the first time since I transcribed and digitized the original written texts when I retired fifteen years ago. They were written to read aloud and entertain the girls before they settled down to sleep. When I read sections aloud to Clare I could hear my voice again as the young story telling dad I was fifty years ago. I was quite touched by this reminder of who I once was. So much to give thanks for at the end of a difficult day. And now bed.

No answers

 Up at seven thirty getting ready to walk to an appointment for medical tests at St David's Hospital. I was five minutes late, but worse than that had been given an eight thirty appointment which was incorrectly communicated to me. The nurse was looking for me in the lobby, a familiar face and voice. Catherine the acupuncturist who worked on me a decade ago, whose daughter Clare taught in the Steiner school. Quite a surprise! She steered me through a series of procedures to assess mobility, general fitness, cognition, an electro cardio graph, blood pressure tested standing, sitting and lying down. What with the conversations between tests, my blood pressure as usual was scarily high. I got to see an expert geriatric consultant, to go through the results. The conversation was intense and I was able to vent my frustration at being given medication that makes me feel ill every day, not better. I learned that I needed a blood test while fasting to assess my cholesterol, so I will get an appointment for that. I need to know if the statins I am obliged to take are justified by my actual cholesterol levels. The surgery didn't propose this. 

I will have to wear a blood pressure monitor 24/7 for a week to assess how 'normal' are the spikes and troughs in my blood pressure readings. I did this ten years ago and that delivered no useful information. I just hope newer kit will work more consistently. My night's sleep is broken enough already without the disturbance of being strapped to an uncomfortable machine. Blood tests were taken. No change in medication for now until the data provides an overall picture of my health condition to work from. I was told the clot dispersal meds are a life sentence, despite the havoc they wreak on my intestines, and the leaky wounds that are the result of taking them. Diet and exercise are what's needed to promote health. The impact of the meds deprives me of two to three hours' sleep a night and that is doing me no good whatsoever. No answers that would improve my quality of life. No wonder I still feel angry and resentful. The medics seem unconcerned that sleep loss is impeding my recovery, and affecting my mental health and well being. 

It was after two when I got home. Clare had already eaten after her morning eye appointment, so I cooked a veggie pasta dish for myself, then slept for a couple of hours. While waiting for her afternoon flight Sara and I started exchanging messages,  worried about the transfer to the Cardiff coach. It worked perfectly, and I went to meet her at Sophia Gardens at seven fifteen. The coach station has bad lighting and signage. I know the location well, but it was so dark, that with my visual impairment and fatigue, I had trouble identifying and reaching the arrival area. Sara was off the coach and I had to call her in order to make contact. Once we'd found each other drizzle turned into proper light rain. Then we walked to the Elgano Guest House where she is staying to check in, then home for supper. For her it was an hour later, so she left us by taxi at nine, and will be back for breakfast at nine tomorrow. I'm exhausted after a demanding day both physically and mentally, so tired my typo count is high, like my blood pressure. I need sleep, lots of it.

Surprise park meeting

I was glad of a good night's sleep and leisurely start to the day. I went to a mid morning appointment at St David's for a dressing change, then after a post-lunch siesta we walked to Bute Park. While we were having a drink at the nursery end cafe, in came our friend Fran, accompanied by Mark Elton, a local musician we got to know through Rachel when she lived in Cardiff twelve years ago. Not only did he play violin on one of her recordings, but also led a scratch orchestra for a charity sing along 'Messiah' at St John's around the same time. It was a surprise to discover that they know each other.

We chatted for about half an hour, but then I had to take off in haste and walk over to Adamsdown to say Mass at St German's, to give Fr Phelim a small Easter break. It's the first time in a year since I was last able to visit, and wonderful that five of the regulars turned out to welcome me and worship together. I was given a lift back to Canton Cross by one of the regulars who lives in Penarth, which meant that I was back just as The Archers was finishing.

Another quiet evening resting, catching up on iPlayer. That was quite a long walk, and although I can manage 4-5 miles in a day, it does leave me tireder than I'm happy with, as if my energy level and general fitness is on a plateau and not improving. Perhaps it's inevitable  until that new wound really closes. There I go, ever the impatient patient.