And...

Further to the below, work called at 1.30pm to say that, owing to transport problems, they couldn't come and would need to reschedule AGAIN.

So, next time I fancy a random day off, can I give them a call and say that I can't make it to work today because of transport problems?

Bah and double humbug.

Pick a number, any number...

The home visit from work (absence of over a month triggers a visit from HR) has been changed again. They haven't changed the day, but have changed the time.

My workplace are good. They haven't sacked me and pay me for several months when I'm ill, which I appreciate and am grateful for. But I've planned stuff today around the original time, and it would be nice if they could just stick to the plan.Inability to keep to arrangements is something that irks me. I find it inconsiderate at best and damn rude at worst.

Also, being geared up for a home visit puts me under a little pressure, and stress is not good for Crohn's. And it's just such a blah. There will be some small talk, then they will ask if there is anything at work they can do to help, or if anything has happened to make me ill. And, as in numerous return to work interviews, occupation health consultations and 'counselling' interviews, I will say no.

And I will explain that Crohn's disease is an auto immune condition that is chronic, and will continue to flare up on and off for the rest of my life. I'm one of the unlucky ones who has never managed to get into full remission. I've explained all this to the same people on *thinks for a moment* more than a dozen occasions. I've handed over literature, notes from specialists and web links.

I've gone to private consultations with a doctor of their choice in a town 20 miles away. Interestingly, he was quite bemused to see me in a nice but 'what do they expect me to do/say about it?' way. I've given them access to my medical notes, GP and specialist.

As I said, I'm grateful that I still have a job. However, I did make my condition known at interview stage, and it was their risk to employ me.

It's just that if I have to go through my medical history one more time, very slowly, so that it can be written down on another form, spelling out the names of my medication and explaining what it is and what it does, I might just loose the plot.

Should I just type it all up and have twenty copies run off and laminated for future use?

The procedures went well, nothing unexpected turned up, and I go back to the specialist in two weeks for biopsy results. The sedation was unparralled. I will blog more about this another time. In the meantime "Keep on taking the tablets".

I'm entering the state of suspended animation that comes with a long term absence from work and social life. I've been here before, and I'm doing my best, but I'm having extreme mood swings, sometimes affected by outside influences. The swings vary from happiness to utter despair.

The despair end of the spectrum is facilitated by the utter selfishness of two of my 'friends'.

One, we'll call her Kate, has always been fairly useless at being proactive in friendship. You know, the sort of person you speak to regularly as long as you ring them. She married one of my friends, moving from a different area, so we became friends by default I guess, but over the years, I thought we'd become quite close. In the last six months, I have become increasingly resentful of making all the running and have significantly cut down on the amount of times I call her. Result? I've heard nothing from her for weeks, since I last called. I know, with friends like this.....but I also know that when a crisis hits her, my phone will start ringing.

So how do I deal with this? In one respect, I'd like to let her know how much her disregard of me hurts, and say that this is why she has lost touch with friends from university (they got fed up of always being the ones to contact/make arrangements) and that this is why she has no other friends (she's been introduced to lots of people, who later on, have said to me in passing 'Kate never rings me/rings me back. Can't be bothered with that. Shame really, I quite liked her'). In another, I know I should just leave it and be unavailable when the inevitable occurs.
Which will be hard, as I've know her husband for 15 years, and If I ditch her, I ditch him.

The second is more hurtful, because the behaviour is out of character. I can only assume I have done something to offend (brain racked, nothing found) or that he just can't be bothered.

I know all the above will be magnified by the fact that I'm a bit ill at the moment and that I'm stuck at home a lot. I'm trying hard not to sink into a depression, but some days it's just really difficult. But I have other excellent friends who are good at giving me a swift kick in the pants when required. I think it's time to book a foot/butt contact and get myself together.

I had a doctors appointment on Wednesday. The usual receptionist was back in place.

Me: Hi, I have an appointment with Dr Raj at 4.10?
Her:(smiles)Hello, is it name?
Me: It is.
Her: Would you like to go straight in?
Me: Thank you.

And it's that easy.

Also on the postitive side, the conversion of the derelict building next door is going well, judging by the amount of noise created. I'd especially like to commend the chap who was cutting new stone with an angle grinder/stillsaw at 5.30am yesterday morining.

Where the sun don't shine

I have known my Crohn's specialist for longer than my husband. We have a good relationship, I understand my condition, and he respects my opinions and decisions. I appreciate the constraints he works under. We have ridden the test/prescription/funding/admission merry go round many times.
I had an appointment yesterday morning to sort out some drugs and discuss the strategy for the tests I'm having tomorrow. Becuase he knows I will answer questions with more than a grunt, he occasionally throws me a medical student to play with a junior doctor on rotation. This mornings was a very professional and earnest young chap with an African accent. We discuss various things. After a few minutes, my consultant enters. I tell him that the letter about my procedure took several weeks to arrive, so in the interim, I rang the Gastro unit myself and booked a slot.

Him: So, 1.30 on Friday then..I'll ensure the red carpet is out.
Me: If you could. And I'd prefer the string quartet in the corner this time.
Hin: Fine. And the potted palms?
Me: Oh, as before

The junior doctor looks a little confused, but relaxes as we discuss the nitty gritty of canulas and sedation.So this time tomorrow, I will be sleeping off the finest Class A drugs the NHS has to offer, and hopefully be a bit further forward with the latest round of treatment.

Secretly, I'm a bit scared. I'm having an ileoscopy (camera in stoma) colonoscopy (camera up the bum) and endoscopy (camera down the throat into stomach). The first two don't bother me at all. I've had them before, and while I wouldn't recommend them for a fun night out, they are ok. It's the third one. I'm just not keen on something down my throat. At all.

The part of my brain that is rational knows that these tests are necessary and sensible. They will give a clear idea of how my disease is behaving, and any added complications such as ulcers, which will afect the choice of treatment.

The part of my brain that is still four years old knows that I don't want to do this. I want to go to the seaside and eat chips.

The part of my brain that is a gobby socialist knows that if I was rich and living in London, I wouldn't be having anything put inside me. I would be having a scan.

And the part of my brain that gets me through everyday life knows that I will grin and bear it and try not to say 'F***' in front of my good doctor.

A Polite Conversation

I arrive at the GP's surgery. It is quiet. And I mean quiet - there are two other people there. The receptionist is new. She isn't chewing gum in a slack jawed manner and wearing a tabard, but you get my point.

Me: Hello, I've come to pick up a repeat prescription and a sick note
Her: .................................
I notice her jaw slacken sightly. Does this mean she has heard me? As her eyes don't focus, I have another go.
Me: I've come to collect a repeat prescription and a sign off?
Her: Oh.
Very Long Pause
Her: So have you got one then? They take 48 hours you know.You can't just have one you know.
Me: Yes, I know. I rang up and ordered both on Tuesday. Today is Thursday.
The expression on her face leads me to suspect that the fact that today is Thursday is news to her.
Another V.L.P
Me: Would you like my name then?
Her:Er...............yeah
I give my name.A third V.L.P. She doesn't move. I can see the box with my repeat prescription and sign off. It is, at best guess, 12 cms from her left hand.She won't even need to stand up. I smile and nod encouragingly. Perhaps she thinks I am 'a wierdo'.After all, I am not wearing any gold, I am over thirty and do not have any children with me. I have all my teeth and no tattoos. I haven't sworn at her. I am not grey and shaking and demanding my 'script'.
A further V.L.P. She turns her back on me.
Her: Well, I'll have to look for it. Sighs. You'll have to wait.Sighs.Would you like to take a seat (this was not a request).
Now, this could have gone a number of ways, save for the floor to ceiling bulletproof screen and the fact I'm in quite a good mood.
Me: No, thank you. I would like you to look for my repeat prescription and my sick note and give it to me, now, please.
Her:.....................
The jaw slackens yet further in what I can best decribe as shock. Some doctors' receptionists' think they are on a par to God. I, however,think not.
After further heavy sighing, she drags herself along on her wheeled chair.And gets the repeat prescription and sick note. And hands them to me. Very slowly. The last person I saw moving that slowly was an in-paient on a zimmer frame.
Me. Thank you.
Her ...............sigh.

Some years ago, I had cause to go through a formal complaints procedure with my surgery. The were several problems, but the B12 was the last straw. I need weekly shot of B12. The surgery don't keep it.Methadone yes, vitamins....no.
I was told I'd need to make an appointment to be prescribed it. I would then need to collect the prescription, store it at home and make a second appointment to have it administered. Two appointments that would a) not be available to people who needed them and b) because of the distance I live from work, mean 6 hours off a week.
I was not a happy kipper.Things were eventually resolved, and I'd noticed a massive improvement in the surgery in the last 18 months. They've employed some additional GP's, who are excellent, and the appointments system has been over hauled.The phone lines open earlier, and there are a lot more clinics and longer opening hours. Trying to be fair and even handed, I was going to write to them. After all, I'd complained, so shouldn't I also give credit?

Then it took me 10 minutes to get a piece of paper to travel less than a foot.

Sleep and Drugs and Bathroom Plugs

13 hours sleep. I feel good. This means I can:

Go collect the prescription and sign off that have been waiting at my GP since Tuesday.

See in single vision

Ring my boss to update her without sounding like an unemployable moron and remember what I said to her.

Shave my legs without having 999 on speed dial in case I lacerate something important.

Except for the last bit. Because I've just been to check on the progress of the bath I'm running.I obviously need another early night, becaue the big bath full of nice hot water I was imagining in my head was just a bath with a bit of damp in the bottom. So I've now put the damn plug in and started again. And I haven't even had any magic fairy dust today. Oh dear.