Scanned at Llandough

I slept fairly well. The back pain is slowly reducing, though it does take longer to get up carefully for a pee in the night. So far so good, I haven't made it worse. I allowed two hours to get to Llandough hospital after breakfast by public transport for a bowel and bladder scan at midday. Rather than take a taxi to reach there on time, I wanted to find out how much waiting and travelling time was needed for the bus trip.

First a 61 to the bus station in town. Then a thirty five minute journey on a 95 bus bound for Barry island calling at Llandough hospital. The hospital isn't mentioned on timetable display panels even though buses drive into and out of the hospital grounds. I got off at Outpatients stop only to find I needed to get off at the main entrance instead. It was raining and strong gusts of wind blew as I walked the 300 yards there. 

The radiology unit is near the Outpatients entrance but this was not indicated. I had to double back down the corridor said to be one of the longest hospital corridors in Europe, running down the length of the building to reach my destination. There are so many signs overhead and on walls it's not easy to identify the place you're looking for. It's just as well I arrived an hour early for my appointment, better than being late because I couldn't find my way there or missed a timely bus. I only had a twenty minute wait to be scanned. I needed to be scanned twice as my bladder wasn't full enough to give a satisfactory image. I had to drink a litre of water and wait half an hour to complete the process.

With a half hour wait for a return bus, rather than wait in a rickety shelter blasted by gusts of cold wind, I went into the cafeteria and had fish and chips for lunch at a reasonable price. A  95 bus took me to the bus station where 61 was about to depart. I was home again by two, pleased to learn the scan revealed nothing of concern.

It's useful to know the journey to Llandough hospital from home can be done in about an hour. Twice as long as a taxi would take, but free with a pensioner's bus pass. Back pain is diminishing now and didn't prevent me sleeping in my arm chair for an hour. I went out at sunset and walked up and down Llandaff Fields for an hour as it got dark. Clare cooked fish and couscous for lunch and kept a portion back for me. Neither of us expected the hospital trip would take so long, so I had my lunch for supper, happy to eat fish twice in a day.

I spent the evening watching a couple of episodes of 'State of Play', portraying journalists in pursuit of oil lobbyists spying on a parliamentary energy select committee chairman through a researcher who is murdered, but by whom? They are unscrupulous in their use of bribery and compromising information to acquire information relevant to the story they want to tell. Corrupt politicians and spin doctors influence police detectives to deflect investigation away from embarrassing truths that journalists want to uncover, and are then accused of perverting the course of justice. It's intriguingly complex, enough to keep me up later than is good for me when I'm nursing a bad back.

Global cyber vulnerability alert

Bedroom rearrangement required a change in habit on my part. When I got up for a pee, half asleep I reached for support to balance myself safely on a fitting that wasn't there. After the stroke, a grab handle was installed beside the bed. I don't need it to haul myself out of bed, but to steady myself when standing. I supported my weight and eased the back pain by leaning on a chest of drawers while standing, without mishap. Somehow I slept quite well despite the duvet slipping off the bed which was not against the wall, plus the usual interruptions. A single ibuprofen tablet calmed my lower back muscles by the time I'd eaten breakfast. Then I rearranged the mattresses to make sure my bed was next to the grab handle. I can rely on established habit to get me through an inevitably wakeful night hereafter.

Clare went shopping. I cooked sea bass and veg for lunch. In the news, reports of a security vulnerability in the PHP scripting language used widely by internet servers to process interactive web pages. Analysis of PHP in use through AI scrutiny flagged up a weakness hackers could use to access the server side of web pages. Security patches for vulnerable software are issued routinely and usually discreetly. News of concern and the fix for it diffused rapidly among web masters globally, and among hackers. Financial and public service websites around the world were taken off-line immediately as a necessary precaution against malign actors, as hackers tried to access and investigate sites with their own aims in mind, whether out of curiosity or ill-will. 

A news sensation of this kind can play a part in educating the ordinary user about threats to digital infrastructure that would be a key implement in cyber warfare. Attacks can affect energy and food supply chains as well as financial transactions. AI shows dangerous potential as a hacking tool in launching cyber offensives. What on earth is the world doing, developing resources able undermine the foundations on which modern life rests, and thinking that such an ultra powerful servant can forever be kept in check by innovators whose intentions and sense of values may contradict and conflict with each other? Reliance on things digital sacrifices resilience on the altars of gods of efficiency and convenience. Scripture reminds us idols end up consuming their worshippers. Do we pay attention?

At a time when high street banks and cash machines are disappearing from our streets at an inconvenient pace, it's ironic that a government minister exhorting preparedness for disaster should be advising citizens to stock up on non perishable food, bottles of water, and cash in case supply chains fail to deliver, or the entire 'tap and pay' transaction system is disabled by cyber criminals, or by total failure of the power grid, as happened in Spain earlier this year. 

I got myself out of the house and walked for a couple of hours around Llandaff and Pontcanna Fields before sunset with little bother from back pain, and I took a few photos of autumnal colours. It's sitting around for too long that gives me trouble. I spent the evening watching a couple of episodes of a conspiracy thriller on ITVX called 'State of Play'. Investigative journalists and the Metropolitan Police investigating the same crime in competition and contention with each other, neither side knowing exactly what they're up against from the outset. Interesting.

Aberfan remembered

I slept well and woke up to a dull damp day. My back is still painful but less so. I took an ibuprofen to minimise the discomfort when walking to church. Today is the 60th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster in which an unstable coal tip collapsed into a landslide overwhelming a village school and a row of houses, killing 116 children and 28 adults. The Eucharist at St Catherine's today prayed for the victims while remembering the tragedy, quoting a poem written at the time and Archbishop Cherry's reflective statement. 

That week in 1966, I'd just started work at the Shell-BP group offices in Vine Street Bristol after graduation, having failed to get a grant for a post graduate social work course in the gap year before starting ordination training. After the news broke, a group of fund raisers were on the street with buckets collecting cash from office workers for the Aberfan appeal. Archbishop Glyn Simon who later ordained me, was on telly giving an epilogue that night. I don't recall what he said, but I do remember Dad, an occasional church going skeptic, being impressed by what he said. 

An on-line news article today reports the continued challenge of dealing with old coal tips despite decades of landscaping work restoring industrial sites since the closure of South Wales mines over a quarter of a century ago. The risk of landslides from coal tips in the Valleys has increased because of climate change. Torrential rain storms accumulate water in bedrock where mining waste, coal shale and sandstone rubble was dumped. What happened at Aberfan could happen at other sites. When the tragedy happened, potential danger from dumping coal waste from Merthyr Vale colliery and extreme weather were not taken seriously, nobody was held accountable, even if lessons were learned after the tragedy. Monitoring and remediating coal tips at risk of collapse is now obliged by public safety legislation. 

Merthyr Vale pit was known as Navigation Colliery. It yielded high quality coal used in steamships. High productivity was essential during and after the war, but waste was piled up without much attention to the risk involved or the consequences. Assessing environmental impact is important in developing industrial domestic, commercial and infrastructure projects nowadays. It can be a bone of contention and political power games when enthusiasm for the need of a project is called into question. It can lead to long delays and rising costs, as we're seeing with HS2 and a proposed third Heathrow runway. In every case, due diligence is necessary to make sure such a terrible tragedy never happens again.

I cooked fish and veg for lunch when I got back from church as Clare hadn't yet returned from a talk about Aberfan at Conway Road Methodist Church 'Over Fifties' club. Unfortunately I burned the rice I was cooking due to a lapse in concentration, so we ended up having couscous instead. I had an acupuncture treatment with Peter at two thirty. When I got home I slept for an hour, mostly in a deep sleep which disposed of some of the stress generated by managing back pain. Meanwhile Clare rearranged the furniture in the study where I sleep, to accommodate two single beds moving her desk into the front bedroom. This enables me to sleep on a firmer mattress and keeps the softer one that distresses my back in reserve for when we have guests who are lighter in weight than me.

After supper I went to the Co-op to buy bananas. It was raining and pitch dark, conditions in which I'm most aware of visual impairment. When the clocks go back I will need to get up earlier and make sure I've done my daily distance earlier to make the most of daylight hours. It's bad enough on low light days under overcast skies.

Yesterday's appointment letter today

I went to bed too late and lost a couple of hours' sleep. Serves me right if I have a miserable day. When the clocks go back next weekend I'll have a natural opportunity to reset the timing of when I go to bed and get up. Overcast and cold today.

In the morning mail, a letter  dated 14th October arrived for the appointment I had yesterday. Included with the letter from the Clinical Gerontology Incontinence service was a chart to record 24/7 bladder emptying times and measured amounts with an extra column for accidental discharge. As if sleep loss from peeing wasn't enough to cope with, now the clinicians expect you to do homework as well. Heaven help anyone with serious cognitive impairment or physical disability. 

I called the contact number, and got through to the relevant medical secretary at St David's Hospital to report what had happened. This is not the first time an appointment letter arrived from UHW after the event. Fortunately I'd been informed digitally as well. It didn't prevent me arriving late having misjudged the walk time, but I had been dealt with nevertheless without the need to report my urinary output. I was told that my medical notes folder was empty yesterday due to a forgotten photocopy. Just a slight whiff of chaos running through routine organisation with additional poor timing on my part.

Clare's study group arrived at ten. I sat in the lounge and watched the final episode of 'Cleddau'. Running through both series is the story of the decline and demise of the father of the leading investigator, a retired criminal lawyer, whose memory loss pervades his active life impairs his quick mind and leading to him to reach false conclusions about what is happening in his world. It leads to comic as well as tragic incidents in the background of the story. It ends with a moving death bed scene. A worthy side track that sheds light on the domestic pressures besetting the protagonist, on top of her own personal vulnerabilities. The crimmie packs a lot of insight about contemporary issues in its Pembroke Dock setting.

I cooked a quick lunch after the study group departed, with tinned mackerel in tomato sauce and veg that included the first Brussels sprouts of the season. The distinctive aroma from the steamer announces when they are perfectly cooked. Clare went to a meditation session after lunch, and I went to the Post Office in drizzling rain to put some dollars on Rachel's Post Office Money Card account. I was shocked to be informed that the card number was invalid. Both the counter clerk and I tried the code on the keypad and got the same response from the card reading system. It's possible that the card recently in use has expired, in which case a new one could be in transit. I sent a message to Clare and one to Rachel asking her to confirm the details and card expiry date. It turned out there was a transcription error in the card number I was given, but that wasn't the only issue. Apparently there's been a Google Cloud outage today affecting banking apps. More chaos.

A phone call came through on my mobile when I was out of reach, followed by a landline call from the Radiology unit at Llandough to book me for an ultrasound bladder and bowel scan this Friday following up on yesterday's consultation at St David's hospital. I was surprised to receive this so promptly, given how long it took for yesterday's appointment from the initial referral.

I walked for an hour at sunset and returned home in time for supper and 'The Archers'. With Hallowe'en approaching BBC iPlayer is screening 'The Reluctant Vampire' and 'The Vampire's Revenge' an adaptation of the 1982 children's novels by master comedian Eric Morecambe with a story line full of brilliant gags and laugh out loud dialogue and a cast of comedy stars. The silliness of the tale is rather tiresome but the wit and humour of the dialogue is a redeeming feature. Earlier bed time tonight as tiredness has dogged me all day.

Drama as education

I felt the benefit of a firmer mattress for a second night, sleeping fairly well and feeling less stiff with little pain in my back and hips. I was able to walk briskly to St David's hospital for my appointment, but mis-timed it and arrived ten minutes late. I mistakenly took a queuing ticket for blood test patients and waited for a while before realising this. There was no receptionist as such for doctor appointments, but eventually a nurse called my name. By this time I'd received a message from Clare to say the hospital had phoned to check why I hadn't turned up. She said I'd left home, and that was when a search was started for me in the waiting room where I was sitting waiting... If there's nobody overseeing arrivals and checking what they have come for, this is what happens.

I had my blood pressure taken and I was weighed in my clothes and shoes. A nurse interviewed me, as the case file with my name on it arrived empty. I gave a pee sample and had an ultrasound scan of my empty bladder, and then a conversation with the duty Registrar, instead of Dr Morse, who had presumably moved on to other patients due to my lateness. I didn't get the opportunity to say to her that I'd had a reprieve from the medication she described as a life sentence six months ago. The Registrar advised me of a couple of possible drugs I might request if my prostate was playing up, and referred me for a prostate scan, in the light of the frequency of emptying my bladder at night. I had a phone call from him when I got home to warn that traces of blood were found in my urine. Given the issue I had with a big kidney stone nineteen years ago, there could be vulnerable scar tissue in my kidneys or bladder affected by the impact of the meds I've taken over the years in my urine. And I'm taking the prescribed daily aspirin that thins the blood. Anyway, I hope there's nothing more ominous about to ambush me.

When I got home Clare was cooking lunch. Fish for herself and roasting chicken pieces for me, which was a surprise. I siesta'd for nearly an hour after we'd eaten, then walked in Llandaff Fields for three quarters of an hour. I spotted a Jay digging with its beak in a rotting log beside the path linking Llandaff Fields and Pontcanna Fields and took a few photos. I read somewhere that jays have a reputation as tree planters. It's not what a zoologist would say. They call it acorn caching. Jays fill their crop with them and select a place to bury them for retrieval in winter. Forgotten nuts may germinate and drive the natural expansion of oak woodland.

After supper I continued watching the mass murder mystery 'Cleddau' on iPlayer. Stalking and identity theft were portrayed in tonight's episode storylines. This is public information and education by means of drama. Occasionally dialogue proceeded too rapidly for me to read and make sense of the subtitles. I had to rewind, and ended up going to bed rather later than intended again.

Mayhem in France

Sleeping last night in a double bed with a more supportive mattress was certainly more comfortable, so my back was less painfully stressed when I got up this morning. I still lost a couple of hours' sleep getting up to empty my bladder. I needed to move carefully in and out of bed to avoid pain and strain, but muscle and joint inflammation is reducing now. I took an ibuprofen tablet as a precaution, and was able to move with less discomfort and walk to St Catherine's for the Parish Eucharist at a fair pace. The church hall is out of action due to location filming so there were no refreshments after the service and we came straight home. It was too cold to stand around and chat in the open air, despite the clear sky and autumn sunshine. After lunch I slept in my armchair for an hour, then walked for nearly an hour in Llandaff Fields.

In the run-up to presidential elections in France, widespread protests against the government by students about the cost of living and poor conditions in schools and colleges, have been badly handled by the police and erupted into mob riots with looting and arson in Paris and other cities. The voices of extreme left and right wing activists polarise the nation and drown consensus building middle ground political leadership at a time. It's a measure of frustration and anger felt by many at the inability of the government to meet their needs at a time of insecurity and uncertainty about the future affecting everyone. It remains to be discovered who is really behind this stirring up of social unrest. 

Israel is also about to elect a new government, with Netanyahu seeking approval for waging a genocidal war against Hamas in Palestinian Gaza and partnership with America in waging war against Iran. Trump openly endorses Netanyahu's leadership. If the US mid-term elections express disapproval for Trump, how will this influence the opinion of Israeli electors?

After supper I watched a couple of episodes of 'Cleddau' on iPlayer. Within the murder investigation story are no fewer than three different instances of coercive controlling relationships. It reflects a social concern that came to light through domestic tragedies leading to the UK Serious Crimes Act in 2015 which made coercive control a criminal act. This was highlighted in the story of Helen Archer and Rob Titchener in the longest running radio soap opera the year before.

A familiar story

Another night with a couple of hours' sleep loss due to back pain taking half an hour to get mobile, able to sit down for our Saturday pancake breakfast without discomfort, thanks to an ibuprofen tablet. I work at sitting down and standing up in a careful, balanced way that avoids increased pain in the places where I feel I have a trapped nerve and strained muscles. That's as much as I can do. It's physically tiring, on top of poor sleep. Clare cooked lunch. I slept for two hours in my arm chair after we'd eaten. As I relaxed the back pain diminished. Eventually I was able to walk for nearly an hour under a clear sky before the sun reached the horizon, but it was cold, 10C. After supper I watched the rest of the first series of 'Cleddau' and started the second. The story seemed familiar. I guessed some but not all the plot twists. 

A search of previous blog posts took me back eighteen months to a BBC Wales crimmie called 'The one that got away', the English language version with some subtitled Welsh dialogue. 'Cleddau' is an all Welsh version screened on S4C with breaks where adverts would be inserted if shown on a commercial channel. I needed the sub-titles, but was interested to discover how much Welsh vocabulary I understood and was familiar with. This happens if I watch something in French, German, Italian, or Spanish - all languages I'm familiar with and can make sense of in written or spoken form, but don't speak confidently. It's part of the entertainment value as far as I'm concerned.