Close To Productive

For decades I’ve been a list maker, I have a list of lists on my reminder app and some list items have subcategories. Nerdy I know. It’s an attempt to organise and prioritise jobs, to see progress (sometimes) or to just add other things to the bottom that have already been done to cross em orf and feel empowered.

Maybe this is an indication that I am starting to nest in my new abode. I have a list of things I’d like to get ‘sorted’, not quite sure how yet.

• Sort tall cupboard contents
• Hang pictures
• Reorganise wardrobe & cupboard contents
• Source wall mounted tv, and get dvd player
• Weed and organise desk drawers

Until I can get help with those, I have been at my desk 😱 (I know, shocking). Desk work in general has been very neglected over the past couple of years for numerous reasons and general procrastination tendencies.

Before moving house, loads of my cds were uploaded to the iMac as I use the natty Remote App to play music, and I have dropped hundreds of images, photos, vids and graphics that need cataloguing. Before any of that can start I had to wrangle the updates and the Apple TimeMachine back up. It (iMac) initially protested, I informed it of its birth and parentage, threatened it with the metaphoric trusted rusty chisel up the USB, then I left it to stew in the corner. It did at it was supposed to, like the petulant toddler it is, so now I can move onto getting stuff done (allegedly).

So over the next few weekends I plan to, although with the decreased dexterity in my right hand/wrist/arm/shoulder I may need to invest in a track pad. Still the “Mac List” is something like

• Roughly sort photos into four categories (graphics/cats/fam/others) before closer cataloguing and naming
• Add album art to albums added to music catalogue (aesthetic & easy search reasons)
• Consider additional iTunes backup method (in excess of 20 gbs)
• Ensure backups of website coded pages are up to date versions
• List website housework and new page needs

But before any of that I really must get on with crocheting the gear stick knob hat (don’t ask, well you can, but I have weird friends).

 

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.

 

Pink, Brrr, Hoorah

Well it’s all fun and games round these parts.

I forgot the tale of the oven while BFF was here. For the first night I’d gotten a lasagne and garlic bread, something easy to throw in the oven as BFF would have been up and travelling since stupid-o-clock. She turned the oven on to preheat and we waited, about ten minutes later *pink* and we were plunged into silent darkness. I was confused, the outside lights were still on but my flat was thrust into blankness. Hmm, something has tripped a fuse. Armed with torch BFF went investigating in the airing cupboard but the switch wouldn’t reset. She turned off the oven and presto the switch obliged and lights returned. It was gone 5pm on a Friday, excellent excuse, I mean reason, to get something delivered for dinner but nothing could be reported until Monday and even then, no idea how long it would take to fix.

On the Tuesday a capable man appeared, turned on the oven and waited. Now, you know how it goes, when the professional is waiting the problem never reoccurs. Just when he asked how long it was, I said the same thing, just as I said “it won’t happen with you here” *pink*. Voila! It did. Straight away he took the oven out and said he wasn’t going to fix the fault, just replace the oven altogether. The next day a new oven was installed – that wasn’t straightforward as the muttering fitter (different guy) tasted positive for CoVid the next day!

At a meeting between residents and the housing association we were told that the windows and fire doors were due to be replaced ‘sometime soon’, the official documents had a completion date no later than August 2023. Oh goodie, no more using the tin of tomatoes to prop the window or explaining to visitors that it wasn’t a piece of conceptual statement art. Minds Thinking Alike tells the tale. As things for me are never straightforward, while I was windowless, the guys came to remove the old fire detectors.

NRS delivered a new commode chair about three weeks ago, but we all said it looked too low, and the tape measure confirmed that, at least an inch and a bit. I’ve only been waiting on this kit since April. The system that is Occupational Therapy has broken me, physically, mentally, cynically, I wish I had kept a detailed diary because it’s been unbelievable. Anywho, there’s a man-who-might coming Thursday to height adjust. I’m in mixed mind, is the ‘adjustable’ preset in set increments of an inch or can be it set to a finite specific amount. I mean an inch is enough to trip over. I’m nervous, if it cannot be done, then I’m looking at having to pay for a bespoke one, again.

After a mere four months the two off-the-shelf, standard fit, just not supplied by contracted supplier, slings have been delivered. I can now be hoisted into a wheelchair and go out-out (yeah, have you seen the weather f-ark that, I’m hibernating until March). At least now I can go ahead and make the Orthotics, Imaging, Respiratory Clinic, Dentist appointments for Spring time now. What’s more, once the weather improves, I can get to wheelchair services for an assessment and get motorised! Beep beep, coming through, eat my rubber dust suckers, mwah.

The sudden drop in temperature brought a new challenge and learning curve, how does the heating work here. The magic box could be detached from the wall and after a bit of Googling I found the instruction manual. WooHoo, after a bit of reading and head scratching I had it sussed. I selected the manual override and set the temp, things clicked and the little “heat demand” icon lit up …… just one slightly niggly snaffoo ….. no heat. The girls checked the radiator valves and they were all on full, the hall radiator might have been trying or just less cold. Great, no heating. Now Ms Brain Box here brought when she moved her plug-in oil filled electric radiator that BFF donated many moons ago. I plugged that in and within half an hour was toasty toasting. A few convos concluded that several flats have radiators that are not warming or struggling to. It is likely that they’re all bunged up with accumulated sludge, crap and scale but flushing such a large system isn’t a straightforward task nor something that can be done in a day. it’s on the refurbishment list.

Friday brought its biggest surprise ….. I’ve only been waiting since July of 2019. A couple of people turned up from my GP Surgery to administer the pneumonia vaccine! Ouch, well sort of, my arm swelled and went more a bruised purple than the expected sunburn red. Other than that no real side affects, although I wonder if it’s starting to strike now as I feel a bit sniffly and throat/ear odd. Medicinal strepsils are being sucked.

What else – oh yes, it’s busy as heck here today. There’s a new person moving in, the family are back and forth bringing furniture and belongings, the fire system engineers are here as there’s a fault that refuses to clear, the in-house auditors are here checking care plans and records, the window guys are here doing the final couple of windows, and later a singing duo will be here for the Christmas party this afternoon (while I’m on the phone with my Neuro Consultant).

And here I was thinking I’d have a quiet life!

 

Minds Thinking Alike

Well it was all going on here yesterday! Tuesday I was informed that the contractors would be on site to replace the windows. Hmmm, do I decant to the communal lounge or bundle up on my sofa? I went with option two and put on a cardigan. They’re also replacing communal windows and fire doors so it’s chilly and drafts everywhere.

The day was still and dull, no breeze or frosty chill by the time they removed the windows at 11:30. Throughout the time carers and cleaners kept shouting through the gaping hole asking if I was okay, cold, need a hot drink. I was fine, busy crocheting my current project. Truth be told I was not as cold as I expected I would get. By 3 the new windows were in and the guys had cleared and vacuumed.

In the midst of all this kafuffle two extra bids with step ladders appeared to remove the old fire detectors (snazzy new system fitted beginning of last month). A house full of men, working!!

When I turned and looked at the new units there was one blinding instant through that crossed my mind. I took a picture and sent it to BFF and she had the exact same thought ….. can you guess what it was ….. depends if you recall previous blogs or are privy to my Facebook posts. We both went “Oww, a window a cat can come in through”

😂😹😂😹😂

There are one or two cats who live in the neighbouring bungalows, when the weather warms you never know what might happen. Although no cat will be as characterful and charming as #NotMyCat. ‘Mickey’ and sweet #NotMyCat2 ‘Ginger’.

 

Fluffy Visit(Eye)ore!

It’s not a question you expect to hear, nor is it a typical trick or treat scenario …. would you like a donkey visit on the 31st?

On Monday a knock at my door announced the arrival of Mum Saffy and son Jack, two gorgeous soft mini donkeys from Mini-Donks visiting the complex where I now reside.

Their gorgeous velvety soft lips and fluffy soft coats, their spindly thing legs leading to polished neat hooves looking like they were tip toeing on stiletto heels. They nuzzled as they munched their carrot sticks, while pictures were taken. Enjoying the chin scritches as I admired the long fluttery eyelashes.

Certainly a more welcome visitor than Clive and Clarissa the humongous great chunky spiders who throw their web between the top of my window and the thick garden bushes below. I think they are European Garden Spider or Cross Orb-Weaver, but I haven’t got close enough to get ‘that’ acquainted.

 

Groundhogged

Twelve weeks in and ………… I’m still waiting.

Still waiting for the commode shower chair, still waiting for a hoist sling, still waiting on my property completion, still waiting business organisations to update my address, still waiting for people to do what they said they would.

I’m jaded, very jaded.

The ‘here to help’ organisations are the ones who are failing me, dehumanising and degrading me, and all they offer is patronising hollow apologies.

Someone asked if I felt settled. I’m not really sure what that means, I am used to the new environment and have cobbled new routines, I’m getting used to the noises and sudden interruptions. I’m getting used to never knowing what day of the week it is or which carer will appear when I press the button, but does that make me settled.

All my possessions are around me, pictures displayed (okay I haven’t hung the wall ones yet, still pondering) but I still have moments when I think ‘I need that book’ or ‘I’ll watch that dvd’ or ‘that craft item is just …’, then remember that that item was gotten rid of.

There was a ‘lovely’ meeting with yet another Social Worker who has taken over my case. When she visited my gander gandered and that tiny flickering spark of me sort of ever so politely let rip. I reminded her that I’ve had no contact since Christmas, no reply to emails, no help with the forms, no help with the move, no help with the adjusting (I have had help, and I am extremely grateful to those who volunteered), I wanted to make the point that as an organisation, alongside OT, the systems are failing.

Now don’t be shocked, but as we’ve entered autumn with the (supposedly) cooler days I have been doing a spot of yarn twiddling. A friend tagged me in a post about glow in the dark wool – I know – which sent my down the Google rabbit hole of ghost patterns, that lead to some yarn being purchased and ‘Howl’ the ghost was crocheted into a new topper for her gear stick 👻

I’ve also made a few ‘mask mates’ for the carers. It felt nice to give back some too.

Just four weeks and a few days until BFF comes to play, I mean stay. We both crave some normality, some familiar, some escape, some laughter.

So I’ve been quiet because I’m still stuck, waiting for those here-to-help organisations and it looks like being another couple of months before the snail creeps an inch closer to any goal ….. so don’t go sprinkling salt anywhere just in case 😉

 

Four Weeks and…..

The quote above struck me as I was playing partial attention to the tv show that used it. Yeap, I’ve died a few deaths in my time but this one has been the most extreme. I could write a list long enough to paper the under-stairs loo of things I either didn’t know and should have or underestimated the effect of. But still, you either stay still or move forward. Thank you for sticking with the tedium of my move, I do appreciate the support, if I’m the lone dog barking in the woods there is someone hearing me.

Soooo……. what’s been happening these past couple of weeks. Well as I sit here in my sun baked lounge with the window propped open and the fan oscillating at full blast (as it has every day since moving in) it seems more than it feels.

Handyman fixed the toilet seat and installed the cupboard shelving brackets and the house keepers put things away in the cupboards. They also found my drinking glasses (they were at the back of a high shelf in a kitchen cupboard), still no tin opener though, and the last box was sorted and cleared. The only box remaining has all the pictures that were on my walls, but I’m in no hurry, I cannot decide what I want where. When I moved into my beloved hovel it was eight years before a picture was put up, lol.

In general life has become a little more uniformed and routined, with the occasional hiccup, but those happen where ever you are. The daily unexpected interruptions slightly wrinkle, the come to get laundry/return laundry, ask if I need anything, has this been done, need to sign off your book, come to wash your dish etc etc pluck the irritation nerve somewhat. If I’m occupied in something on the iPad or phone I’m unlikely to give extensive details because that’s my personal business and unless it’s directly relevant to living here, then it’s ‘nunya’.

OT over the past two weeks has been joyously fantastic. I’ll let you read that line again because I know, dear reader, you’ll be going ‘huh!’. Yes, it has been a blissful delight, but there’s a very big reason ….. I’ve not heard a peep from any of them, no texts, no emails, no calls, no visits, no letters, nothing ….. of course the downside is that nothing has been done either, no word on when the correctly adjusted commode chair will be delivered, no finding a suitably supportive sling and useable hoist.

My beloved hovel was cleared of the things I left behind (some furniture, fridge, washing machine, general clutter etc). It knocked me for a doozy of a downer when the guy unexpectedly sent photos of the cleared rooms with his invoice. Oh gosh, it looked, neglected, unloved, so final. yes, change comes with melancholy, I have had to let go of so much, compromise on so much, both physically and psychologically in order to move, but I’ve gained nothing, yet. It’s hurting and I’ve not really started healing.

The Solicitor’s forms have been completed and signed, all the supporting documentation passed over, it’s moving at its own pace.

Some have asked if I’ve settled in. I didn’t know how to answer that, my things are more organised, although the dishes never get put back in the right spot and I rarely have the same mug each morning. There’s no routine as to who works when so I frequently don’t know what day of the week it is. Experts say it takes three weeks to develop a new habit and 12-18 months before somewhere feels home. I doubt I will ever call here home, it’s where I live, the flat, possibly my flat but never ‘home’ and all the connotations that brings up.

What’s next …. once I have a sling and hoist sorted I can go to the wheelchair center (haven’t been out on my own this century 😲) and be assessed for the powerchair, I’ll need to pass an indoor and outdoor driving test and an eye test . Plus various seating types can be trialed to ensure maximum comfort, even potentially have something specific moulded. Okay so appointments are booked four weeks ahead and it could be another 4-6 weeks before chair arrives, but it seems reliable.

So….. there you have it folks …..

 

Fortnight In

My dumaflache is still without its thingamay but the doodah widget copes, kinda.

Unusually for me this is something of a struggle to write, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, the overwhelming change or the utter stressed frustration but I am trying to carefully consider my words and tone, after all it’s still early days. Did I expect problems? Of course. Did I expect tears and despondency? Without a doubt. Did I expect difficult adjustments? Definitely. Still, my dry sarcasm screams I’ve moved to hell!

The carers are a fun bunch mix of personalities and I am going with the flow, giving concise instruction or direction, injecting a little humour, learning as we go. It’s slow progress.

If you suffered my previous post Boxed In And Sticky the OT thing is on-going without improvement. The tea trolley commode is still here awaiting collection, another arrived but the alterations ordered by OT were not done, it was returned awaiting adjustment kit ‘sometime soon’. The system is severely flawed, it feels like the disability has to adjust to fit the standard kit instead of the equipment being adjusted to fit the disability. ::sigh:: OT and the suppliers have been a daily issue. Calls, emails between me and them, between them and others meaning plans changing constantly and at the end of it, I’m done, broke.

The tiger and cubs ornament has been found but the can opener has gone mia, along with my drinking glasses, they must be in the last remaining couple of boxes. Can’t put thing away in the airing cupboard until handyman fixes the extra brackets needed after they replaced the water heater. The loo seat is still broke, so can’t invite visitors.

Awesomest nephew installed the phone extension cable and plugged in the router and phone – reconnected to the wider world, streaming services, emails, social media and music! Well some, my computer has not been booted up and added to my network which has hours, days, weeks of music to go through. New habits being worked on, less tv more tunes.

Hmm…. the niggles that over time drive a person mad. Behind my bedroom wall there is an electrics cupboard which must have a cooling system or fan because it sounds like a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle endlessly, constantly throughout the night. Next door to that is the cleaning cupboard complete with squeaky hinged door, I can ignore that but the banging and clattering of trying to fill a metal bucket at 6:30am is harder to ignore. Next to that are a couple of toilets (opposite the communal dining room and lounge) it’s like thunderstorms over Niagara when the chain is pulled!! Thankfully the bucket and bogs are not an everyday occurrence. Then there is something else that buzzes throughout the night, it stopped at 8am, ears think it’s in my hallway, but I’ve no clue, yet. For an erratic sleeper, it’s taking longer than liked to adjust to these sounds.

As my bedroom window faces the main entrance the glow of the lights brightens the room considerably. The curtains are very thin, I need to invest in some darker maybe thicker ones. As it’s an assisted living complex the front door of the flat opens onto a wide hallway, it feels very much hotel like, and as everyone else’s main doors (which are fire doors) open to the corridor you hear them slam shut and the empty carpeted corridor amplifies the sound.

Still, could be worse, there’s debris from a Chinese space rocket falling to Earth, and as the odds of being hit by that is more likely than winning the National Lottery jackpot, I might just go sit in the corner in my tin foil hat, just in case, you know, with my luck.

 

Boxed In And Sticky

Well folks, I arrived ….. that was the easy bit!

Pre-move day two delightful chaps arrived with boxes, bubble wrap and paper, oh and a pint of milk so they could brew up. They set to and during our chats and anecdotes made two remarks, one that I was organised and had made things straightforward for them and two that I was a ‘character’ (what, who? Moi! Well I say). After a bustling three hours the twenty five boxes were taped up and marked and things were ready for the next morning.

Move day – while still in my pit I went to use the house phone but my provider had already disconnected the service (charming) thankfully my mobile was at hand and I booked a wheelchair taxi for 12:30 to take me to my new digs. After a tearful goodbye to my last carer I had a few minutes of quiet reflection in my hovel of thirty years, two months and ten days. It looked worn, dusty and unkempt which was a sad sight, both of us suffering from my deterioration. Before long the big red van pulled up and the two chaps cheerily arrived ready to start the lifting and shifting. After a few false starts I sort of otched on the slide board into the wheelchair and the movers kindly oiked me into a comfy position and parked me in a corner. It seemed to be endless the stream of boxes and chests of drawers that were carted out. Then the big sofa and the big desk.

At about noon my mobile rant, taxi had to cancel because his airport run had been delayed and he wouldn’t be back in time to take me. Bugger, oh well, something had to go wrong. I had saved another company in my phone and called them and they said they would be there is about 30/40 minutes. That was that sorted. Time for me to vacate and wait in the hot sun. After a final brew up and a walk through check, the door was locked and keys put into my bag. We waited and waited. I called the company back to their profuse apologies they’d forgotten me (is that even possible!) and a car would be there in five. Hmm, yeah, a car arrived not a wheelchair car so taxi driver called and a wheelchair car was dispatched. I told the movers to head off as the assisted living complex were expecting them and had keys, they reluctantly set off but within a minute the wheelchair cab arrived, I was loaded and off we went. My throat choked but I kept it together, just.

Somehow it only took half the time to unload. Furniture was put in place, boxes were organised and BroInLaw started unboxing the kitchen ones putting stuff anywhere so it was somewhere. A couple of carers arrived and made up the bed. I said thank you and goodbye to the movers and made arrangements for how the boxes and packing to be collected. The front window doesn’t stay open so a tin of tomatoes has been deployed as window stopper, it’s a South East facing window so the strongest afternoon sun doesn’t bake like my previous West facing window.

I was in ….. rather smoothly if somewhat stickily.

A couple of the carers came Wednesday and unpacked a number of boxes with me directing where I wanted things for now. They chuckled at the stories, marvelled at my antics and adventures and were pleased my instructions were clear and followable. I tried bribing them with a chocolate biscuit but they declined. It really helped make the place look less like box city. There are still boxes in the bedroom and bathroom and it’s curious the things that haven’t come to light. I have a tiger mother and cubs ornament and a tigger drinking beaker yet to be unearthed but they were the lad things packed in a box.

There is a handyman who is available for small jobs I’ve pre-warned him that I have a lot of pictures to go up. That was all the easy bits.

OT had ordered a different style of shower/commode chair to be delivered last week, it was not there. Trying to shuffle from my old chair onto the loo with very few hand holds was sweat inducing and exhausting, shuffling back was even harder. On day two, just as I expected (and had remarked back in May) the loo seat broke. The new shower chair arrived sounding like the tinniest hostess trolley and as hard too, as well as about an inch and a half higher, after sheer brute force and belligerence on my part I got onto it. During that time I crunched bones, pinched skin, stamped circles on my thigh courtesy of the hole where the removed arm slots into, bruised my butt because the boney bit of my butt is against the hard uncushioned plastic. I still cannot defy gravity and slide up hill (how very rude of me). The concerned carers are all remarking how intolerable it is for me, how undignified (please, I lost that many years ago) that something else has to be done and urgently, also amazed at my ingenuity, fortitude and strength. The manager initiated an ‘urgent’ OT visit, but that’s days. I left messages on my OT’s phone but the whole system is not geared up to create solutions, just to provide the cheapest, standardised kit to sort of solve a solution. We’ve botched a new method, using my old cushioned shower chair, standing commode bowl on the floor beneath and hope it catches everything. Sorry TMI??

Anyway, I survived the packing, the move, the heat and the hottest day of the year. But I might not survive OT, they bring out the very worst of me and I don’t like it.

On a much lighter note, I’ve had some very sweet cards from my carers wishing me well and saying they will miss me, I will miss them. They all helped me transition into this world where I need personal care.

 

Snail Speeding

Things have moved on a pace since the last update. I think my snail has had one too many energy drinks!

A final ruthless rummage of my accumulated clutter was done and the charity was called to collect my donations. Along with the seven stuffed banana boxes, a couple of rammed gym bags there was a box of glasses and a couple of bags of oddments. Mixed feelings as these things were taken out my door, relief that it was gone, a touch of ‘should I have kept that trinket’ but mostly I was comfortable with the things being gone. The hovel instantly felt less disheveled and a snip of progress had been made.

A fantastically generous gal pal had offered to eBay some other items and after bagging and detailing those she came and collected them. It surprised me that something like a Cape De Monti trinket box barely made £5 where as two boxes of DMC embroidery silks fetched enough for a decent dinner for two! The Wedgewood Jasperware is worthless but a Disney cross stitch kit made double figures! How tastes have changed.

Slowly all the various drawers and cupboards have been gone through and cleared. Yesterday in a drawer it seemed I was a hoarder of post it notes, playing cards and staple removers! Who needs four staple removers!

The fridge freezer was ordered, delivery within ten days but the email confirmation said something different. I’m hoping madly that it’s there in time!! Profiling Bed. The tale is woeful and quite a debacle involving OT so in the end I just ordered my own, that’s being delivered and installed today (note to self – order new fitted sheets).

Phone and internet has been sorted. We’ll sort of. The switch over will take no more that 24 hours … but … the white socket is in the most ridiculous place. The door in the kitchen opens against the side wall, that’s where it is, there’s no power socket along that wall, no shelf to put a phone on nor room to wall mount a phone. The socket can be moved after the line is active, which is after I’ve moved in. Not figured out how to plug a phone in to tell them to come move the socket.

The list of change of addresses has been made and a few have been ticked off. That reminds me, did I put the electoral register on.

Slight technical snaffoo with the tenancy signing. After all the paperwork was signed and I paid the one week’s rent, when I logged into my association account I discovered my account was in arrears, huh, wait, what, how can that be, I’ve only made one payment two days ago!! Turns out there is a set up fee no one told be about. Great.

There are two items I am having the most quandaries about. One is a four foot bell rope, complete with brass bell and fittings. I cross stitched it for my Mum in single strand embroidery silk on Irish linen. I had looked online and these were selling for £80+, yikes. Heart and head are in full war, I made it, but it’s £80, but it was for Mum, but it’s £80! I’m packing it to continue pondering. The other thing is my front room curtains, they’re just curtains but I really really like them, but they’re full length and would need turning up for the new place, but I really like my thick lined curtains, I’d need to get hoops as it’s a pole rail at the new place and what’s already there is not my choice, but I really really really like them and my sister chose them for me. ::sigh::

The mind is hopping from one thought to another, it’s draining. There’s an item in my house I’m searching for, but I can vaguely recall having to throw it out but I’m not sure I did but the damn thing is eluding me and every nook and cranny has been searched, every drawer and cupboard gone through and it’s not there. Hmmm…..

Manic, chaotic and I’m still not ready………