I
have had a serious telling-off today. Indeed, this is the second telling-off
from the same source. The first occurred about ten days ago when my GP Surgery
telephoned to book an appointment for my annual breathing test. Having fixed it
for today at 10am, I asked if I might also have my ‘flu injection?
There
was a sharp intake of breath before the lady asked me why I had not had this by
now for it is November, you know, and you could catch influenza and be very
ill! I agreed and apologised, but I am unsure if my apology was accepted for
the call ended abruptly.
Arriving
on time, the nurse asked me to show her my inhalers – of which I have three different
ones. Show me how you use them and when, cajoled the nurse who, it must be said
was charming up to this point. But then things went badly, oh so badly, downhill.
It
seems that I have been using inhaler one correctly first thing in the morning,
but the use of inhaler two at the same time was totally and utterly wrong,
wrong, wrong! And to add insult to injury, my use of inhaler three was so wrong
as to be worthy of a custodial sentence with hard labour!
Do
you not read the instructions on the prescription, asked the nurse in matriarchal
tones of the like that only matriarchs use? Here I blubbered and that was a mistake
of major proportions. Read the packet, said the matriarch, and I promised to do
so, three times daily if needed.
The
second inhaler is to be used twice before I retire for the night. Inhaler three
may be used up to four times a day as needed – and twice each time it was so needed.
Matriarch explained that such occasions might be when I have walked upstairs
and feel a bit puffed or when I have undertaken a strenuous gallop along the
high street to catch a bus. I nodded I understanding.
Breathing
test followed. It was with tremendous relief that I learned that I had blown
into the tube three times and each blow was an improvement on the last (for I
did try very hard to please as I did not want to be kept behind after surgery
closed).
Blood
pressure was good whilst my answers to ten questions resulted in a score of
four – anything below eight being acceptable, I was told. Then ten questions
ranged from how often do I cough to whether or not I do all the household chores
myself? It was the latter where I nearly came a cropper, for I admitted that
whilst I cook, wash-up, wash my clothes, clean the brass, copper and silver,
and do some ironing, Daphne visits on Fridays for three hours of domesticity.
Do you hoover? I admitted to left that to Daphne – this produced a slight smile
on the lips but it was gone before I could be certain sure. My admission that my
daughter calls to change my duvet resulted in a curt comment that it was now
time for the ’flu injection.
I
may be wrong here but I seem to recall that prior to injections, a dab of
antiseptic and something to dull the skin is usually applied, but today it was Tally ho! Here we go! And a big plunge!
As
I restored my clothing I was handed a form to take to King George Hospital for
a blood test. I again sensed a feeling of glee as I was told that this would be
a starving test – nothing to eat after 10pm and sips of water only until I have
joined the throng at KGH at 7am – where I am sure that they do dab your arm first!
Have
you used your Emergency Kit, called the nurse as I attempted to escape? I had –
so I was given a prescription for another one and told that if there is an
emergency I must let them know after it has passed (presumably assuming that I survive!)
- and I promised to do so without fail.
Over
the road to the chemist, then a bus to Ilford, buying fresh fruit for me and treats
for Socks, and home on the bus to prove that I can still walk!
