What a day Thursday the 13th was in our house. I’ve never liked the number thirteen and this was an example of why.
Thursday the 13th – Part 1
It kicked off with hubby going to the Vic to have his eyes checked. He is a glaucoma sufferer and, having almost lost the sight in one eye, has regular check ups. Well he would if he could! His appointment was for March this year but cancelled due to the virus. So he had lots of phone calls backwards and forwards. Plus appointments made and cancelled.
When he finally sorted out his new date it was for Thursday morning at 10.45 am. He duly turned up and went through temperature taking and all the rest to be told to go into the waiting room.
Then he was told, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t booked in for a visit, but was booked in for a telephone consultation. No way were they putting him in as it was a full clinic.
I’m not happy…
As a result, hubby wasn’t happy. During the earlier phone conversation he’d explained to the Vic that he was worried about his other eye. They said a face-to-face appointment would be made there at the clinic.
So he had no option but to take himself home to await a phone call to tell him when he could be seen. He came straight back and at 12.45, the phone rang.
It was a consultant, an hour late (but the very original appointment time), doing his supposedly cancelled telephone appointment. He was apologetic and knew nothing about it. So now hubby has to wait for another face-to-face appointment and do it all again in the next two or three weeks.
There was a lot more wrapped round it, but it will take all the blog to tell you! So I’ll go onto the next story.
Thursday the 13th – Part 2
As you may or may not know, Jane, my daughter, suffers from arthritis as I do. Sorry for giving you that Jane. She’s had a really painful left wrist for some weeks, which had just started to settle down.
There I was in the kitchen doing my housewifely duties when suddenly she came charging down from the office, holding her arm and yelling ‘get me the ice pack quick’. She keeps a couple in the freezer. They’re very handy for pain, headaches and so on. She uses them regularly for headaches but they come in handy for injuries too.
In between screaming her head off, she managed to tell me she had only pushed some card in a cupboard with her bad wrist, heard something snap and was in awful pain. I got her sorted with the ice pack and when the pain settled enough she went back to the office. With her left hand immobilised on the ice pack, she could use her right hand for typing.
Thursday the 13th – Part 3!
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, I had been mopping the floor. I took the mop back to its rightful place, turned round to go over the small step into the kitchen and decided I was going to do Swan Lake on the floor.
Next, I skidded on the damp tiles and threw myself full length on the floor on my right side. I laid there a minute or two wondering if I was going to need a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Then I thought to myself ‘don’t be so dramatic Chrissie you’re in one piece and can move so get up off the floor’.
I was on my own and the men were out. Jane was working and with a bad wrist she wasn’t going to heave me up off the kitchen floor. More tactics were needed and quickly, or I would be getting my clothes damp while I lay on the still damp floor.
Eventually I managed it and got up (aren’t I brave) and carried on like you do. Obviously throwing yourself on the kitchen floor is what you’re supposed to do every five minutes. It shook me up and added more to my already painful body. Although I did think there’s no wonder I hurt, after the amount of falling I seem to be doing!
Aren’t I an idiot. Afterwards I shouted to ask Jane if her wrist was easier and confessed my ‘accident’ to be met by ‘oh mother what have you done this time’.
Thursday the 13th – Part 4…
Then the men got back home, chuntering about inefficient appointment systems. So we owned up to our misdeeds to be met by ‘we can’t leave you alone for two minutes’ which I knew they would say.
Kevin insisted that Jane contact the walk in centre at Fleetwood for an xray in case she had broken a small bone in her wrist. He still nagged at her, even though we explained it was like the time when exactly the same happened with the back of her knee. There was the same snapping sound which was a ligament ‘popping’.
Anyway she rang and did the triage and made an appointment for the same afternoon. Not long after a nurse practitioner rang back. After asking questions about movement and what could she move or not, she did a video call with her. Eventually she decided it was most probably a torn ligament, which is what we said. Jane showed her the wrist support she had on, with a short plastic ruler stuck down the back of it to keep it straight.
She can’t bend it or apply any pressure at all without screaming in pain. The nurse gave her some pain killers to help with the pain and that was that.
After dinner she went out onto the beach to do today’s video featuring said splint. You might want to watch it, here –
I don’t like the number 13!
All in all, there’s no wonder I don’t like thirteen because things happen in my life and how I wish they wouldn’t! It was just the same with the house we lived in!
But all’s well that ends well. There’s no wonder we have accidents and things going wrong because it’s been the story of our lives, especially me. I think bad luck finds me no matter where I live, especially around number thirteen. My previous house should have been 13 and was changed to another number by the owners before us.
It still didn’t get rid of the things that went wrong there, you couldn’t make it up. I could do a best seller on things that did go wrong, so it looks like it’s followed me here!
While you’re here…
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