August Challenge; a reflection on today

The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Yesterday everything was just hunky dory. Well almost; Anniemay has earache and was in pain, but she’s a tough cookie and soldiers on. With copious doses of painkillers and a squirt in her ear every so often with an antibiotic spray the (locum) GP gave her for an ear infection.

Earache is not a trivial thing; we recently lost a friend - a perfectly healthy 60-year old - to an inoperable brain tumour, the first symptom of which was earache. And I know this is on Anniemay’s mind. It’s on my mind too.

The pain is getting worse; she’s up all night and eventually calls the NHS 111 number. They send her to the hospital. So at 5.00 this morning we find ourselves at the Urgent Care Unit. (I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wish I’d brought my camera - the sky is amazing.)

The doctor and nurse on duty examine the ear and pronounce severely hardened wax. They see no sign of infection. Wax hardens like this in contact with liquid; could the spray have made it worse? No comment.

The ear needs syringing but they can’t do that at the UCU. It’ll have to be done at the GP’s surgery. Failing that, a referral to the ENT Unit at the hospital. In the meantime I have to don my Florence Nightingale outfit and administer warm olive oil to the offending ear to soften the wax prior to removal by syringe.

She calls the surgery at 8.30am. The earliest appointment with the nurse is in 9 days time (or 4 weeks to see a doctor).

Anniemay is well known in the family for her telephone technique; she has a knack of swiftly moving between outrage and charm that confuses the person on the other end so that they end up agreeing with her even after they’ve said there’s nothing they can do. Good Cop, Bad Cop all in one.

The GP’s receptionist is brilliant; she goes through the list to find anyone who she thinks may not actually need their appointment with the nurse. She finds one, rings them to confirm and moments later calls us to give Anniemay an appointment this morning.

She returns clutching stronger painkillers; it was just too painful to syringe. She smiles though; “I have a GP appointment tomorrow”. I ask about the four week rule; “the squeaky wheel gets the grease”. But not the syringe evidently. So she has to put up with this for even longer.

She also has to put up with my slow progress in redoing the shower room. This is what happens when plumbing, blip and nursing combine. Something has to give. There should be a new shower fitted to the wall on the right-hand side where the pipes are sticking out. Maybe tomorrow.

In the meantime, here’s proof I was actually in the room. And I did manage to put up the new mirror.