Fbg 12.9
Why?
I will explain in a bit...
Long post. You need a coffee/tea, a pot if you are going to read this. Otherwise ignore this post...
My day went like this.
1. Tunnel refused my Fast Tag, it has plenty money on it. But tunnel booth lady waved me through.
2. Parking car. My usual safe place (where I always park for hospital appointments) but it didn’t feel so safe any more. But nowhere nearer to leave it.
3. I go in shop, and come out. My car is surrounded by police cars. Panic. But it wasn’t for me, fortunately. I see an incident team and a scientific team (on their stainless steel briefcases). TJ’s was open so I go in there for a bit. TJ’s was called the Poor Man’s shop in the 70’s (that’s what J told me, he worked there). It has gone very downhill. No one in there. I needed the loo. Escalators were not working. Notice to say go in lift. Lift was held together by clear sellotape. I press the lift button. I get electric shock. I still need a loo. The lift buttons outside and inside were held together with sellotape. I jab lift button repeatedly with my walking stick. I get in. Toilet is upstairs, but lift voice says Going Down. Panic from me. Can’t tell if lift is moving. Doors open, it is next floor up. I got off, another woman got on. There is only down for lift at this point. But as doors close I hear lift say Going Up. She panics, shoves her hands in the doors, opens them, gets out, looks at me. Her face confused. She jumps in again, obviously is pressing the Down button inside. Lift distinctintly announces in a loud voice Going Up. Panic on the woman’s face again but she doesn’t get her hands in the doors in time. I stand by the lift wondering about this imaginary destination the lift says it is going to, and wonder where the woman is going to, but the lift button from the outside indicates the lift is going down and not up.
Old lady outside the restroom, too scared to go in by herself. I go in with her. The plasterboard on the walls have been kicked in and broken plasterboard on floor.
Some toilet doors ominously closed (that was a big safety issue many years ago with TJ’s).
3. Then when I left TJ’s there was a man eyeing me. He was begging outside TJ’s. I went back to car. Police had gone. I got in car and drove to find another parking space, but there wasn’t any. So I came back to the original space and I needed to get moving to get to the hospital in time.
I nearly abandoned my hospital appointment to drive back home at this point. But in hindsight glad I stayed.
I couldn’t see the man again. but I am looking round to check.
Then up London Road I suddenly turn round and same beggar man is walking up behind me. There is a low brick wall to the side of me, so I sit down to look him in the eyes, I don’t want my back to him. I am half way to the hospital by now. He nods and says Hello to me, and walks past.
I cross road. He carries on walking other side of road. He walks faster than me. I am slowly pushing my walker. He then sits on the pavement opposite the hospital in beggar mode.
4. Hospital was heaving outside, ambulances backed up, no chance of social distancing. A row of the burliest policemen I have ever seen, in full gear across the entrances. I turn away and go to the fruit and veg stall at the side and buy a couple of things. Courage back up again, I walk through them. Security guard stops me asks if I have appointment. I say yes.
Inside is the busiest I have ever seen this hospital. I go to St Paul’s eye dept. I am worried I am going to come home with Covid, but I am here now.
Next 3 hours was the impossibility of communicating as a deaf person with everyone wearing masks and more. I am waving my name plaquard above my head every time I see a nurse come out and call a patient and no one gets up. Even hearing people were obviously having problems. Because of the earlier thing with the beggar, I was on hyper alert anyway. So this becomes a test/exam, go back to waiting room, waving my name placard until beckoned again. And so on. I think every blinking person in the hospital knew my name by the time I left, but at least I didn’t miss my turn like many others appeared to.
Then I am sent to imaging. But the patients were rather cramped in that waiting area. And the lady doing the imaging wore a hijab, an NHS mask and a clear contraption clamped tightly to her head, no obvious supply of oxygen to her. There were people waiting before me, and hijab lady would come out and say something totally indistinguishable that every one looked wide eyed at each other. The hijab lady would go back in and come out with another name, and everyone looked at each other. No one had a clue what she was saying. At this point I am waving my name placard at her everytime she comes out. Everyone looks at me in astonishment. The hijab lady beckons me. I have obviously got in before these other poor hearing people. I explain I am deaf, but no concessions are made, and I am in the dark as to what is happening. I have pen¬ebook but she motions me to sit down and put chin and forehead on the rest. She gets impatient with me. I don’t have a clue what I am meant to be doing. But she gets agitated and a bit frustrated with me every time I blink. Okay, so I am not meant to blink each time this red line is travelling around my eye. I get that figured out. She looks much happier with me and her eyes are smiling at me. But I don’t have a clue what she is telling me to do next. So, I go along the labyrinth of corridors back to reception and tell them I have had imaging. Reception guy knows me and my name without me telling him by now. Motions me to sit.
Arm waving again with my name placard. The other patients look very tired by now (but I still have adrenaline going), and many are looking wide eyed at the nurses coming out and calling names they cannot hear (most would normally have a friend/relative/carer with them, but this is impossible to accommodate in the current situation, what comes to my mind is Zager&Evans 2525, the b&w film).
A guy comes out, beckons me, and guides me to his room. And is first person to take off his mask. He asks me if that is okay, and I ask him if I can take mine off. At last I can breathe more easily. He is the eye doctor. More investigations by him personally, he studies the imaging on his computer. No signs of glaucoma, the laser treatment in 2019 has worked well. There had been debate at the time as to how to proceed with me, and when the eye doctor then reported to his boss, his boss had said no give her a different procedure. But I was called back in again and the eye doctor examined me again, and insisted to his boss this was the way he wanted to proceed. I am clueless. But it turns out that 3 years later I had the best possible procedure and treatment. More discussion of change of meds (which I am going to have to fight my non-existent GP for, mine is a doctorless GP surgery) and stuff. He is sending me a copy patient letter so I know what I have to push for. And I come back in a year. This eye doctor gave me all the time in the word. We talked about diabetes and loads more stuff. And he gave me loads of good advice and stuff I can get and do myself. He made me feel good about my eyes.
5. I leave the hospital about 3 hours later (that was good timing considering the Covid crisis). And the nurses are incredibly short staffed. They went over and beyond in every way to keep everything running despite adverse circumstances. Lady with the hijab and clear mask clamped to her face needed an assistant to bring patients into her. She was protecting herself and working in very difficult circumstances. I could see the patients backing up as I left her.
The burly policemen had gone from outside the hospital.
The beggar was still sitting on the cold pavement in the same spot over the road. I needed a pastie before I came home. I paid for it by cash, because I wanted the change, and needed to look him in the face. So, this was the guy that appeared to be following me earlier. I stopped in front of him, and asked if he wanted small change. He looked up at me and then put out his hand and said thank you. I studied his face. It was non descript, and his eyes were no colour at all. You wouldn’t remember him, but I do. Then he said A Happy New Year to you. And I said the same back. and walked away. I checked behind me but he stayed where he was.
6. I’ll be home in an hour I thought. Not to be.
First the fast tag refused to work for the tunnel again. Toll lady waved me through.
On the expressway, 15 minutes from home. It is dark, we have rainstorm and then hail. Traffic stops. Found out later it was a car on fire ahead. But nothing moved for well over an hour and a half. My fuel tank is running low, using a lot of fuel. (My legs are also cross legged but I managed to hold on).The stop start system doesn’t kick in. I toggle the switch but it over rides me each time to OFF. There was nothing I could do but leave the engine running. I am over tired by now, by feet are feeling clumsy. I cannot afford to lose concentration. I need food, but have none by now. All these going home people around me must be really feeling it too. I pray for everyone to stay calm in this gridlock. I pray for me, our vehicles, for each and every person. The gridlock traffic calms down and stops edging towards a space which is not there, and the traffic becomes more patients. I know I have some glucose tablets in the car door. Lime. So I eat them one by one, slowly. I have finished half the tube by the time I get home safely. Not good for my blood glucose but it kept me alert.
Hence Fbg 12.9 this morning.
I will get this down today.
The NHS is amazing.
I have to say this.
Sorry for this long post.
My creative painting comes later...