Bunged Up & Fuming!

This really sums up my experience of this year.

On Monday 11th I was persuaded (read a guilt coerced) into attending a bit of a do in the lounge. A very entertaining couple were singing Christmas songs and jollying things up. It was immediately obvious that the room was roasting, the heat here is always on ‘hell’ setting. I was glad to get back to my cooler corner.

Lo and behold Wednesday morning, I’m sniffing and swollen and trying not to choke, gag, heave or hurl – great, I’ve caught the grubby bug. Out come the cold/flu potions, throat sweets, and a couple of ibuprofen for the headache. Please, please bugger offeth

It didn’t, it settled in, brought friends (aching teeth, throbbing ears, throat clearing, energy sapping, steals voice). By Monday this week I’m fed up of the constant sniffing, managing to have a nasal drip while also blocked. Feeling utterly crappy groggy and ugg (technical medical term), along with looking an unpleasant shade of grey death.

The team called my GP for assistance – the response 8 hours later, only have antibiotics if gunk is proper thick green otherwise go to Pharmacy. Gee wizz, sure *rolleyes* My gunk wasn’t green, either the consistency of tears or wallpaper paste glue.

So Tuesday 19th I peruse jolly old Boots meds choices and select one, answer a dozen questions as it’s a behind counter job, select next day delivery and click to buy.

Wednesday morning there’s a text from Royal Mail with a link – Sorry your parcel has been delayed, sent to wrong sorting office.

Thursday I wait and wait and wait. Ping. Another text, your parcel has been delivered. Yippee, I look at the photo and it shows a parcel poking out a mailbox, except it’s not my mail box. No worries it’s likely in the main building box. Hang on, the one in the picture has a wreath hanging from it, ours doesn’t (I can see it from my window). Yeap, you guessed it – they’ve delivered it to the wrong address!

Onto the Royal Mail site to see if I can make contact with anyone and there are two choices, telephone (yeah except I’ve no voice for more than a few words) or I can write a letter. Really! Are you having a laugh!! By the time RM deliver the posted letter it will be 2025!

I’m done, M living in a world of incompetent idiots, I want to check out and head back to the proper days of service.

EDIT :: The very nice people who live at the wrong address kindly dropped the parcel off at our main office. I have my meds 🤪

 

Bureaucratic Headaches

I feel the annoyance of things brewing up to a bubbling rant. Those of an easily offended disposition may wish to scroll on by.

There are numerous things that, to be exceedingly frank about, are f**king well pi**ing me off to a boiling a*** of steaming anger – or in other words has one mildly miffed.

Right then – the heating! So far four visits by various engineers. First was an electrician as some beep somewhere mistakenly thought it was electric heating here (nope), he concluded the wireless controller was duff. Second engineer came and concluded that the controller was likely okay it was the valves on the radiators. Third engineer came armed with hammers and valves, he clumped, bashed and clouted it into behaving and voila I had heating that was controlled by the wireless controller. Yes, sorted, that’s done. Then unexpectedly engineer returned again with orders to replace wireless controller with the upgraded one. Yeah, well, within fifteen minutes of him leaving the damn thing lost it’s connection, the radiators were boiling (at one point it was 28°c/82.50f). I did the take the batteries out and put them back but it still didn’t seem to control anything and it drops connection about every 15/20 minutes, so we just turned the radiator valves down to its lowest setting. You see I cannot contact these providers directly, I email person a who forwards it to rep b who gets company c to organise an engineer. Visit five being organised.

Bathroom. Back in early December a carer sat on the toilet seat lid and it cracked. All she did was lean forward to put my foot in the trouser leg and it split. It has been reported but it’s still not cracked. The cistern is a temperamental flush, the sink plug is one you push down to stay down and push to pop up except it doesn’t. The hot/cold indicator on the mixer tap is the wrong way round. The pump for the shower is slurring as slowing.

Care fees – way back way when I was first contacted about a possible flat here I had two immediate questions, can BFF stay for our holibobs together and how much is it. Reasonable enough asks, I thought. Thankfully the answer to a was yes (deffo deal breaker if no) and question b was I’ll get back to you. Eventually after numerous requests a badly photocopied brochure arrived giving pages of details about benefits and financial assessments, deferred payments with property sales, saving and investments limits etc and a line that said the fee was capped at £269 per week. This was the same as I was paying for current care so I could draft a possible budget plan. The County Council are responsible for invoicing and they run about 8 weeks behind, so January fees billed in March, but the buggers want immediate payment or you get a nasty in the post. I moved in the July, it took them until the end of August to change my postal address, despite being emailed weekly as a reminder and to ask for outstanding invoices sent to the wrong address to be emailed. In October I asked again but they said there was nothing outstanding. I chased various sections again and waited. To my surprise a bill arrived for the first 16 weeks (that’s to the first week of November) but the figure charged is £45+ a week more. F-a-r-k!! Emails whizzed off to various people asking the basic question – how much is it – and as yet no reply from anyone. Am I being charged different as a self funder, is this higher rate including kitchen meals I don’t have, or was I simply told the wrong figure or are there extra charges for things I’m unaware of – who knows. It seems those who should know, don’t know.

OT – as per previous rants, I ended up spending £3.5k on a 4ft profiling bed because initially they’d supply a small hospital bed (which I’d roll out of) before attempting to get permission for a better bed, which would be denied as I’m a healthy weight single lady, I’d only qualify for a 3ft bed. This would take approximately 5-6 months, so I ordered my own and got it here in four working days.

Which left the commode issue – I hate having to publicly admit this because it is degrading and personally embarrassing but since dignity etc is now a luxury I’ve just got to get over myself. Back in May 2022 I told OT I would need a different commode, as I would not be able to slide transfer to the porcelain throne. It would need to be a certain height so I can slide transfer onto it. I chased and confirmed over and over to make sure it would be there by the time I moved in, as you know, I’m good at most things but cannot not need the toilet at some point. Commode 1 was two inches higher than the sofa, I had zero choice but to defy gravity and force myself across, pinching my skin, breaking a stay in my brace, bruising in places and scratching myself on its corners. It was intolerable, my carers were appalled, the managers made an urgent call and three weeks later an OT wandered in, said I’d been sent the wrong one, that a right one would arrive. That took another couple of weeks. Again it was wrong, too low and my feet were dragging on the floor but they said they could raise it. Then they said they were waiting for the bits, then they said they were obsolete so it got cancelled without informing me. OT set about finding a different supplier who visited, took and wrote down measurements, as this would be a special request the once a month equipment panel would have to review and approve, this took another two months. Suddenly in December it arrived and was at the wrong height, they returned to adjust it and it’s maximum height again is too low.

Defeat has been called, towel has been thrown down, conceded stubbornness and with three emails one afternoon a commode to my bespoke requirements is being made by the same company who made my current shower chair some 15+ish years ago. Cost £560. As it’s a specific made to measure item delivery no later than end of February possibly sooner. But I know it will be right. Oh deities of all and any choice please let it be right!

Now the observant reader might well be thinking, if none of the supplied commodes work, then how is she……. you know….. draining the radiator or dropping the kids off at the pool, etc. Oh gosh, do I commit this truth to the forever world of the internet. Deep breath old gal. Well, my old shower chair with its aperture does have any commode pan rails to hold the pot, so it has to be stood on the floor, strategically placed to hopefully catch whatever descends. (Sorry if you’re eating your toast). The carers have been epic at making this system such a straightforward no bother method but still, sometimes not everything, you know. So yes, essentially this has been happening three or four times a day, every day since July 18th. *shudder*

Then there are the trifling little niggles that all add up to be frustrating, it is in my care plan, it is on a sign stuck to the wall, there is a sugar bowl next to the coffee jar and yet it is still a roulette game as to whether there will be none/one/two sugars in my coffee. A couple of things sent to the laundry have either gone walkies or been put away somewhere other carers cannot find them. The wardrobe chest of drawers must have a black hole in. Finally being able to attempt to make hospital appointments only to find either the consultant has to get the GP to or vice versa to make the referral, again it will be months before I can begin getting new back braces, or the EEG, or baseline respiratory clinic or…or…or… Oh yes and £50 travel costs to get to the dentist. I’m going to have to have words with them about how we do things, check up, x-rays, clean, done in one visit not spread across three or more.

Every month the care plan, the risk assessment and the moving and handling assessment is reviewed and signed, it comes round so quick. Management or Management’s management have decided to also include the question “Do you wish to review your respect form” that’s the new description for advanced directive or dnar or dnr, the bugger off and let me die choice. They better not ask me after an OT tussle I might say yes!

I’m not like the others here, except maybe one, and there are times I feel like I’ve moved to a care home where control of personal choice has been taken away and everyone is treated as if they’ve compromised mental capacity. It is not what I was lead to believe. Sadly for everyone I have a mouth and I’m not afraid to use it.

All my pictures are still in the box, I am so worn down by the frustrations and chasing I cannot think about what I want hung where. I miss seeing them, I’m connected to all my accumulated stuff. Maybe ‘soon’ the daylight will power up my solar energies mojo and I’ll get on with things.

I feel like I am being very moaning but this ‘independent living’ doesn’t seem to be gaining progress. It is all very deflating and wearing – plus it’s January, dark, dank, dismal…. ::sigh:: still could be worse.

 

Scan Ship Sell Easy? (Nope)

We’ve all seen the adverts over the past few years, simply scan your item’s barcode, box it up and the courier chappy with a cheery smile will collect it and ping, money appears into your account. It’s a great way to sustainably handle your unwanted items, it’s easy to use and sounds all very shiny.

Yeah. Right. Now regular readers will know I am highly dubious of anything that describes itself as ‘easy’, ‘simple’, ‘quick’, ‘straightforward’ etc. with my impending move, knowing I will have to be ruthless with the cull, I thought using these options would make disposal of my books, cds and DVD’s reasonably pain free.

I should have trusted my gut 🤦‍♀️

I am already in an emotional turmoil, feeling overwhelmed with all that has to come together before this impending move. While BFF was here we went through my assorted clutter and I downloaded a few apps to use. It was a nightmare! The first hurdle is that the scanner works so quickly, without realising I’d scanned the same thing multiple times because you’re not sure whether the darned thing had scanned the bar code or not (some apps are better than others). Then there are the number of items it rejects because either it doesn’t recognise the barcode or it announces with sniffy attitudes “We are not interested in this item at present”. But by far the most utterly diabolically demoralising aspect of the process was the pittance they offered.

More than half of my collection of media was rejected. What it did accept they were offering prices between 4pence and £1. Out of 70+ items it graciously accepted I had amassed the grand total of less than £15! The potential for insult doesn’t end there, because when you box and send off your goods they then check and ‘adjust’ the offer (downwards) depending on condition. So utterly not worth all the efforts – it’s all going to the local charity shops.

My curiosity got the better of me and went deep diving about the internet. One of my pristine unwrapped DVD’s specials was being sold for £12 and I was offered just 27p……..that’s taking the ‘p’.

I hate all this.

 

Tightrope Controversy

WARNING :: Those of a sensitive or easily riled nature may want to skip this post.

Recently the news, and media in general, have been several stories that have attracted a degree of controversy. I have remained silent because I either feel to voice my thoughts would bring forth degrees of flaming, trolling and hatred, or because I feel the media is trying to stir or has a biased slant, or because in some respects it’s none of my business. But this is my blog, so, I’m just going to blurt it out here. You are welcome to agree, disagree, comment or not, read or not.

Roe v Wade – the most contentious subject on the planet. I’ve always felt that there is no straightforward answer to the subject of terminations. It cannot be an accepted contraception method, a without consequence easily available option. There will always be ways and means of getting terminations and those can be very dangerous, even deadly. There are circumstances where it should to be an available option. But I’m not in a position to dictate the what’s, why’s and wherefores, or intelligent enough to draft a potentially length ‘rule’. Ultimately it is the choice of the pregnant person. There is a quote about The Unborn by Dave Barnhart that’s quite poignant, look it up.

MAiD (medically aided death) – Another contentious matter. There is a movement in the U.K. called Dying With Dignity, who are calling for legislation on this matter. I can see why many are fearful of this, but I also see why people want the option. I have disabled friends who are ardently against and those who can see its place. As a disabled person, with a life limiting condition, I can see a time when I might like to say “okay I’m done, enough”. But how to write a piece of legislation that fits all the variables. It is still a legal requirement to have two doctors signatures for a cremation, a great deal of meticulous thought, planning and specificity needs to take place. We are all going to die of something, likely it won’t be pleasant, to have an element of lucid, considered, discussed, understood control of that, is a big deal. Again it is a personal choice, it isn’t a straightforward yes or no.

Balcony Banning – oh where to begin compiling thoughts on the debacle of how the media report Royal Family issues. When the Duke of York walked with HMQ as she entered the Abbey for the memorial, there was media flamed uproar and they made that their primary report issue. I’d rather he did that short walk (which didn’t include the aisle) than have him process the length of the Abbey as the other family members did when entering and leaving. As for who is on the Balcony, there have been many occasions when fewer members were there. Ten years ago for the diamond jubilee there were just six. HMQ hasn’t ‘banned’ anybody from anything, but the use of such an inflammatory word makes it sound like the family are having duels along the long corridor about it! The Press and the Media will steer the coverage, it’s theme and tone, and by their nature they will twist and inflate the merest hint of scandal, scowl or controversy when they should be pushing the magnitude of the occasion and achievement.

Depp v Heard – when two strong empowered egos with too much wealth and say lock horns! They are both as bad as each other, they’ve both done wrong, said wrong, and been wronged. They are both abused and abuser. A volatile clash of personalities and the only winners are the paid parties (legal teams, pr peeps etc). I don’t need a blow by urinating, smirking, crying, tutting days long account everywhere I turn. Sheesh, when will it end.

What else……

U.K. Politics – party gate, beer gate, long drive eye tests, basic instinct legs, tractor porn, canoodling clenches, there’s better behaviour is a school nursery playground. Politics is a dirty world, where word play, economies with the truth, self important posturing are the name of the day. Once upon a decade ago I used to think I had a reasonable handle on what the policies of the parties (even Monster Raving Loony party) were, but today I have zero idea what they are or how they’d try to achieve them. All I know is that things are a mess, likely to get messier. Answers are not within our nation, global circumstances heavily impact our shores. Nothing can be counted upon, trusted or believed. It’s pitiful.

I think that’s about it. So cruel cruel trolls and keyboard warriors, do your best, I ain’t bovvered.

 

The Pillow Lift

Of course it happens to me……

Nice gent arrives at my door with a pillow lifter for me to try, as I am having problems getting to a seated position from laying down. He goes to the bedroom and I can hear him placing it on the bed. Everything goes quiet for a while, no sound of motors whirring. Hmmm.

Gent then comes back to the lounge “I’m having a bit of an issue, you might see where I’m going wrong” he places the mat on the floor and holds up the cotton cover “this cover goes on this mat, but I cannot see which way it goes”

We both glance from mat to cover to mat to cover. The cotton cover was about a third smaller in width and length than the mat, there was no way it was going to fit. Plus there was only one, cannot exactly guarantee to wash and dry and remake the bed within one day.it depends very much on which carers come at what times.

He checked the label, of the mat, then checked the label of the cover.

“Ah-ha!! The cover is for a leg lifter”

So everything had to be uninstalled and head back to the depot to be resorted to try again another day.

🤦‍♀️

 

The Attic Scam

It was perfect timing and considering it was before my morning coffee I was rather on the ball.

Picture the scene, Carer was writing up the care book when my phone rang, because holding the thing is tiresome I hit the speakerphone button.

“Good morning, how are things today? Good I hope” announced the overly cheerful voice instantly putting me on guard.

“Well I’ve not had my coffee yet so…..” I cautiously reply

“I am calling because you are on our register as your property still has the old style loft insulation?”

“Oh dear, that doesn’t sound good” I over did the sound of concern

“Can you tell me if you’ve re-insulated your attic at all?”

“I don’t stick my head up there, I couldn’t say”

“Do you know if it is yellow or pink?”

“Like I said, I haven’t stuck my head up there”

“I see, how long have you lived there?”

“Thirty years”

By now my carer is giving me a few odd glances as confusion crosses her face

“Well as I said you might still have the old attic insulation and we can come out and survey to check and the talk through the various options”

“Okay”

“Latest research shows that effective insulation can reduce energy costs considerably”

“That’s very important with all these price increases”

“Our survey costs £170 but the Government will pay for that in certain cases. Can I ask which of these age brackets you fall into, 50-65, 65-85, 85+”

I thought about saying that it’s rude to ask a lady her age but instead I just said the first one.

“Excellent news, the survey will be free. Do you have pen and paper handy I will need to give you a reference number”

I pretended to grab something. Carer had gone from looking confused to thinking I’ve totally lost the plot.

“Okay, I’m ready, can I ask, when they come to survey the property will I need to give this to the Inspector?” it help to sound a little thick at times

“Yes, they will need it”

“Oh…..I better make sure I give it to the person upstairs, I live in a black of flats…….”

Phone went dead.

Carer burst out laughing.

😆

 

Cut outs

It’s curious how you find yourself realising you’re missing something you hadn’t noticed was not there.

An odd statement I know, let me elaborate.

For Christmas I got some lovely gift vouchers and I knew exactly what I would treat myself to, there were three films that I enjoy watching again and again and to avoid the faff of remembering ahead of time to get carer to load the dvd (built into the tv) I decided to ‘buy’ the digital copies. It’s the way things are going, technologically wise, buying a version that you stream (assuming it’s not already included in subscription packages etc) rather than a physical copy.

I aimed the remote at the tv and clicked buttons and settled to be entertained all over again, getting comfortable in re-experiencing the fun of the films. Later one night as I was pondering the mental meanderings of my thoughts I realised one of those thoughts brought about an “oh yeah” type response.

Back in the day of dvd advertising, you’d get inducements of the exciting ‘extras’ (deleted scenes etc) or the ‘Directors Cut’, or a film would be available under two different age classifications – with streaming we no longer get any of that.

Sooo…… dear reader …… how many of you have just gone “Oh yeah” as you never gave it a thought.

 

Not All Dots Join

Back in 2012 I blogged the hell and torture of getting a shower chair that would work for me Shower Chair Debacle

So, in short, Occupational Therapy could not supply a chair (from the ones available to them through third party contract) that fitted through my doors and had a seat height I required, so I had to buy my own. £400+ with VAT relief later and chair arrived. It worked well for a while before my core strength weakened and meant that trying to wheel up the slight slope of the wet room floor dwindled.

However, after coming off my feet altogether and because I made sure that my bed, sofa, toilet and shower chair were of the same height (give half an inch), the shower chair became the primary way I am moved from bed-toilet-sofa etc. it’s straightforward, efficient and uncomplicated for carers. It is also essentially the only workable method.

Recently a rear brake pedal has started rattling and sometimes catching, tiny alarm bells are ringing in my noggin, what would I do if it broke, it doesn’t bear thinking about! So time to get a repair person on the case, maybe get all four wheels/brake units replaced. Right then, get on it woman!

Intelligence said to email the place you bought it from, they might have ideas such as ‘contact these peeps’ or ‘here’s the bit if you can find a fixer”. I emailed them and they wrote back and suggested I contact a company called NRS who service and repair equipment in my area. Progress I thought this is a good sign, I explained my situation in the email and waited their reply. When they replied the first suggestion was to contact the company I bought it from (did they not read the bit that it was they who said to contact you) and that NRS only handle ‘NHS Prescripted Equipment’ essentially meaning they will not handle private purchased items – what a silly billy Intelligence is 🤦‍♀️

By chance I had received an unrelated but equally unassistive email from my sparkly new to the job Social Worker – ah-ha! Intelligence decided to try its luck (unwise). Knowing how all these agencies mix and contact and that they share premises and switchboard, I asked if he could check with OT if they knew any local repairers, as they’d likely have dealings, right? His reply returned with an “unsure where they are, maybe a GP referral would be quicker or could I hire one from the Red Cross”. GP referral I’m 2yrs 9months waiting for the Pneumovax referral, efficient is not their method and I don’t need to hire anything I need a fixer 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I have resorted to Google, I have created a list of local businesses that specialise in equipment and I am emailing one at a time to see if they can either come service it or recommend any business that can” 🤞

I have a sort of last resort plan – a local Facebook group, hopefully a knowledgeable experienced either person-who-can or person-who-knows-a-person-who-can will restore my sanity.

 

Suddenly I’m popular!

In my role as international sex symbol and awesome influencer (I saw that smirk!) I am not immune from receiving numerous offers of untold riches and adulation from the social media masses – let’s get real here people, I barely get messages from people I actually honestly know.

I can go days and weeks without receiving a message via a social media message app, usually because my nearest and dearest message me via one medium. So to suddenly get a number of messages saying hi, let’s hook up, nice to meet you, let’s chat, you sound like someone like me – I really do roll my eyes so far back in my head I can see my butt crack.

These attempts do amuse me. Really, you like my profile, it’s bland, uninformative and unhuman. You think my pictures look hot, well I’m not ‘in’ any of the public pictures, my avatar was generated yonks ago, it’s a caricature. Others are either witty sarcastic memes or cats.

Today I received a message from a supposed cabinet minister of UAE, yet he is completely devoid of any punctuation skills. Hmmm, do other languages not have commas and full stops? He called me ‘Dear’, really am I a dear, that’s what a grey haired granny says to her grandchild. It’s a doddery word.

Then I received one from a USA Air Force base person, who thought we had lots in common after reading all my profile had to say about me. I’m no Lycra clad gym bunny with curve and muscles, like her photo, not to mention the twenty year age gap.

I have often wondered what my profile says, what do people (genuine people, not the phishing, bot, scammer kind) deduce about me from what is there? How can I see my public profile as if I were a stranger?

Maybe it is just my cynical superstitious nature that has me going “WotEva” as I hit the block button.

 

Now listen here 2021!

How has it been for you so far?? Really! Well I say…..

Me? Well let’s see, it’s frigging freezing and I’ve that niggling nasal drip making the throat feel suspect, is it a head cold wanting to brew or just changing temperatures doing their thing or something far more suspicious. After a zoomy chat with a hospital consultant, letters are being sent as no one from my GP Surgery has contacted me about the requested pneumonia vaccination and to remind them I’m highly vulnerable and need a home visit for any jabs. Grocery delivery slots are getting snapped as quick as they are released, good job I’m still eligible for the eight hour priority slots. Several of the carers with the agency I use and likely ones I see have tested positive for CoVid and today my front door has decided no one shall pass.

It decided to be sticky of a morning and we put it down to the colder than a witches tit night temperatures, as it wasn’t a problem during the rest of the day. This morning my beefy stout carer semi hurled herself at it so I messaged my awesome superhero Neph thinking it might just need some WD40 and a stern talking to. Neph rocks up in a shortsleeved tee shirt (I’m sure he’s part polar bear) and when I suggested he lock the door and feel how it’s sticking, did so and it stucked stuck.

Not very does often he get a perplexed expression on his face but as he fedangled the lock, huffed the handle mechanism, brute yanked the door, perplexion indeed crossed his face. “hmm, I don’t think it’s the mushroom, more like the bolt not lifting in the spag at the middle”. Well I think that’s what he said, it all sounded a bit wigwam for a ducks bridle to me.

Now I’m not saying that Facebook can predict the future but across the past few weeks there was been an ad appearing for “Panes In The Glass” a local small business advertising window repairs, hinge greasing, lock maintenance etc, I read their reviews and recognised the van so they’ve been to my area before. It’s getting late on a Saturday afternoon so thought, mentally prepare to leave a message which I did and within two minutes he called back and after spouting forth about spags and mushrooms he thought “it might be the gearbox” (don’t you just love the variety of technical language). After a discussion about what is likely involved and how things will go, weather permitting and if Murphy can keep his law to himself, on Monday a very nice man is going to try and fix it.

Now let’s hope the carers due across the next couple of days get the message to use the back door. 🤞

We haven’t even reached double digit January yet and already 2021 is being a 🤬. Although I did managed to get a surprise treat to BFF, some strictly not birthday flowers some just because flowers (it’s her birthday in a couple of days and she told me to only send a card). And a special kitty cat in Switzerland sent me some new year wishes 😸.

Sure hope I get a fantastic prize after passing all these tests.