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.

Catch up

Another uncomfortable night, losing sleep coping with a painful back. At least the sun is shining today. Rufus and I agreed to meet at Cafe Castan, but he called before I could un-stiffen myself and leave the house, to say he was finding it impossible to park nearby. There's always room in Meadow Street during the day under the new parking regulations, so I invited him to come to the house and use our guest parking app and drink coffee chez nous instead. It was good to see him in good form, applying his organisational experience to working with Missions to Seafarers volunteers. After we parted company I cooked savoury veg and chick peas with couscous for lunch. I had to move carefully because the back pain made me feel unstable on my feet, and took time attempting to free trapped back muscles afterwards. I couldn't sleep but rested and read until it was time to walk in Llandaff Fields for an hour before sunset. There's a cold wind today, I wouldn't be surprised to see all the trees turn brown and gold over the weekend.

After supper I watched a Welsh language crimmie with subtitles on BBC iPlayer called 'Cleddau' it was on S4C originally.

Memories of Wartime

An overcast day with periods of fine drizzling rain. Although I slept well I woke up again with back pain, as bad as yesterday. I think the mattress on my bed isn't supporting my weight properly when I get out to empty my bladder.  The strain of repeating an awkward movement takes its toll on my right buttock and hip joint. I needed a rub with ibuprofen gel to suppress the pain and get mobile. Clare went to town after breakfast in search of a duvet cover for Rachel while I cooked a seafood paella, managing my complaining back as best as I could on my feet, moving about the kitchen. In the end I took an ibuprofen pill as the gel was starting to wear off. I found it hard concentrating on the detail of cooking while moving carefully to avoid making a move that would make things worse. The paella turned out quite well. For dessert we had experimental chocolate ice cream Clare made from the flesh of a Hallowe'en pumpkin with honey, cocoa powder and yogurt.

I sat in my arm chair writing for most of the afternoon, feeling the need to rest my back. I didn't go out and walk until tea time. I exchanged messages with Sara whose parents are celebrating their diamond wedding anniversary this month. She spoke about their reticence to remember growing up in post-war Sweden, having Norwegian relatives. Sweden supplied iron ore to Germany and let Nazi troops transit the country to invade Norway, the price paid for remaining neutral and retaining independence. As well as being a time of hardship it was difficult in other ways, though Sweden's neutrality enabled it to play an important part in saving Scandinavian Jews from extermination and stranded allied servicemen from capture. Her questions about my family's wartime history prompted me to remember stories my mother told me about her experience of life in the mining valleys. It occurred to me that my grandchildren know nothing of this. Perhaps I should share these recollections with them too. 

Trump has reacted to criticism about allowing live streaming the firing squad execution of mass murderer Nidal Hassan by reversing his decision. Relations between Trump and Zelensky have deteriorated further with Trump accusing him of destroying Ukraine, a nonsensical idea when Russian ballistic missiles and drones rain down on Kyiv. Zelensky speaks of being betrayed by Trump. Ukraine has resumed striking Russian oil refineries, and Yandex a key Russian search data processing centre, disrupting internet traffic. 

Ukraine's innovative use of drone technology and AI in countering Russian aggression reveals an ability to inflict strategic damage to Russia's economy and its war machine. Between four hundred and four hundred and fifty Russian soldiers have died since Ukraine was invaded four and a half years ago with up to one and a half million soldiers wounded or missing. As well as stopping Ukraine from being overwhelmed by Russia's invasion, success in developing military technology makes Ukraine an attractive prospect for future investment in defence industries. Trump's attempts to broker a cease fire and start peace talks have been as unfruitful in North Eastern Europe as they have been in the Middle East.

This afternoon, I took advantage of feeling less painfully stiff to go for a walk in Llandaff Fields as the sun was setting. I needed another rub with ibuprofen gel after supper. Then I watched the last two episodes of 'Black Sands', the content of which could have been compressed into a single episode, as the slow pace of portraying the end of the story, with a lengthy twilight search on a black volcanic sandy beach with dunes  added little apart from impatience to get it over with and get to bed.

Under the shadow

A good night's sleep, but I woke up with muscle pain in the middle of my back above the pelvis, stiff neck and shoulders. I must have slept for some time in an awkward position. I had to move slowly, carefully and in a balanced way to avoid putting my vertebrae and pelvis out of alignment. I had a phone call while I was in the shower about an appointment at St David's hospital, following up on a GP referral. Clare brought the phone to me, but the line dropped as the phone was too far from the base station. I called the hospital and was given a date for triage at an incontinence clinic. I wasn't sure why and enquired of the appointments secretary what this was all about. 

It's been six weeks since the boil on my buttock burst and I asked to be referred for wound dressing to the district nurse team, aware of the daily demand for care this would place on Clare. No pasa nada. Thanks to Clare the wound has healed nicely. Given that the initial infection broke out in scar tissue as a result of a violent diarrhea side effect from clot busting medication, I thought it might be worth asking for a scan of the affected muscle tissue to check how stable it now is. 

Step one is a consultation with Dr Morse, whom I saw back in March as part of the general health check I received six months after the stroke. At that time the medication was having a bad effect on me. I asked how long I'd have to continue taking it, and was told it's 'a life sentence'. Well, I've been given a reprieve. My digestive tract works as God intends it to. No incontinence to deal with, but I shall press for a scan to find out if there's any hidden risk remaining. 

Sorting out the appointment lost me the time needed to get to St Catherine's for the Eucharist. I went to the church hall half an hour later to say hello to people and buy a bag of church garden tomatoes. I called at the pharmacy for a prescription renewal while I was in the vicinity and was told it would be ready in a week's time. Just as well I have two week's medication left.

When I got back home I lay on my back with a book under my head and worked on relaxing muscles and warming them up gently while Clare cooked pasta for lunch. I needed to sleep for half an hour afterwards  then I went into town to get the the book I ordered from Waterstones' for Clare birthday - a new translation of the Epic of Gilgamesh by Poet Laureate Andrew Motion. After this I felt ready for a brisk walk up and down Llandaff Fields as the muscle pain was easing. After supper, I spent the evening writing.

Russia has stepped up its bombardment of Ukrainian energy infrastructure and residential areas of Kyiv. Trump's 'energy ceasefire' is a figment of his imagination. He is coercing Ukraine into complying with his wishes, influencing Elon Musk, to throttle Musk's Starlink satellite network, making it much harder to detect incoming missile strikes and defend against them. Political commentators ask if Trump has become a Russian ally. He seems willing to appease rather than confront Putin. For years Trump has cultivated business relationships in Russia. Who knows what compromising information Russia has on him? 

The head of MI5 warns against increasing threats from Russian cyber attacks and the dangers of AI being used to develop new threats by 'hostile actors', as individuals, organisations or nation states are referred to in security jargon. Sanctioned  Russian oil tankers and naval vessels sail through seas close to Britain and our air space is probed by Russian drones and military aircraft, risking an incident but just avoiding one. We hear of criminals hired to commit crimes on behalf of anti-semitic extremists, and on behalf of Iran or Russia. It's disturbing to think that war could break out in Western Europe accidentally and Britain would not be exempt from the consequences.