To be honest the only thing I want to do today is scream. I think the NHS should install soundproof booths to be used by patients and carers alike, for those moments when your head feels like it is going to explode and the desire to "scream the place down" (I hope you know what I mean) is almost too much to bear. The reason for such emotion is difficult to pinpoint. Oh hang on, yes the last few days have been stressful, the final straw being yesterday's fiasco. I received a call from the hospital where Mike is due to have his SCT (not the same one we usually go to). I told the lady on the other end that Mike was at work and gave her his mobile number. She then said could she just check the address, as the one on the referral was not the one on her records (Mike moved from Brum when we met.) It turned out she was going to send the letter to his old address as she thought the address on the referral letter was wrong! Some good that would have done us. When Mike called me later to tell me the details, it turned out there was a clash of appointments, had she left either of us with a contact number? Of course not and I had to spend half an hour hunting down the number for him. (Hospitals are very secretive it seems and didn't answer the first number I gave him.)
Even better news came via the postman. An appointment for Mike to see someone nine days earlier than originally planned at our local hospital. Now this has sent me into complete panic mode. As the letter was clearly dated the same day as his x-rays I'm worried they saw something that meant sooner rather than later was better. Mike of course is just pleased that things are moving along.
Now where is that booth!
A Trip to a Wind Farm
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