lizziec: (BSG - Starbuck frustrated (mini))
Today I have anger. I am pissed and I would very much like to yell at someone and can't.

I've been suspecting for a little while that some of our post has been going astray. I've been trying to organise a headstone for mum's grave and twice now the paperwork has gone missing in the post (incidentally the woman at the Masons sounded rather incredulous that this had happened which is one of the reasons I'm so wound up. As if I'd make it up and ask her to send out the same stuff three times. This time I've asked her to send it recorded delivery and add the charge to the amount for the headstone).

Now some of the paperwork we need to buy the house has gone missing in the post meaning that the whole process of that has been delayed and I am really fucking angry.

So I called up Royal Mail because I want to talk to someone, an actual person about this problem and my concerns about the lost post and I get a bloody phone tree that doesn't put me through to a person but to a recording that redirects me to their website and tells me to fill in a form. I'll fill it in, but I have the feeling that it will eventually come back with "not our problem".

In the meantime it's entirely possible that our post will go missing again. And who knows what already has?

This entry was originally posted at http://lizziec.dreamwidth.org/425586.html. There are currently comments on the original entry.
lizziec: (Rocks fall)
Today I have anger. I am pissed and I would very much like to yell at someone and can't.

I've been suspecting for a little while that some of our post has been going astray. I've been trying to organise a headstone for mum's grave and twice now the paperwork has gone missing in the post (incidentally the woman at the Masons sounded rather incredulous that this had happened which is one of the reasons I'm so wound up. As if I'd make it up and ask her to send out the same stuff three times. This time I've asked her to send it recorded delivery and add the charge to the amount for the headstone).

Now some of the paperwork we need to buy the house has gone missing in the post meaning that the whole process of that has been delayed and I am really fucking angry.

So I called up Royal Mail because I want to talk to someone, an actual person about this problem and my concerns about the lost post and I get a bloody phone tree that doesn't put me through to a person but to a recording that redirects me to their website and tells me to fill in a form. I'll fill it in, but I have the feeling that it will eventually come back with "not our problem".

In the meantime it's entirely possible that our post will go missing again. And who knows what already has?
lizziec: (me - mummy and little lizzie)
Ben and I spent some time today sorting out some flowers and a balloon for mum's cubicle at the hospital, to make it a little more bright, having first checked that the ward allows flowers. We ended up getting a beautiful box of flowers from Mad Lillies in Banstead, which is where we got our wedding flowers from. That done, and with Phil back from work, we all headed up to Tooting to visit mum, getting to the hospital at about 5:15pm.

It was immediately clear that mum was worse than yesterday. They had her hooked up to a heart monitor, nasal oxygen on her and several different lines and things going in to her. She looked much weaker than yesterday, much sleepier, and she was having more nasty puss-y discharge from her nose than yesterday. Ben said hi and then went down to the cafe for a coffee - St Georges helpfully has an M&S food hall and cafe, which is a real bonus and all round fabulous idea - and Phil and I dumped our bags at the end of the bed, and then went through mum's post with her and read to her from BBC History magazine, which was all I had on me.

After a bit, one of the doctors came over and wanted to speak with me and Phil, so we dropped everything and went with her to a private room. A nurse got me a hot drink and really I should have known. That is never ever a good sign.

What the doctor had to say was incredibly hard for Phil and I to hear. What she wanted to do was tell us where we were up to today, and discuss with us a Do Not Resuscitate order.

She explained to us that while mum's blood sugar was much better (down to 11), she was much much worse than she had been 24 hours earlier. Mum's heart is getting very weak and mum herself is very tired. And she didn't mean that in a "she'll sleep and wake up refreshed" way, but in a "probably wanting to die" sort of way. And mum herself said later that she was very tired. Mum's resting heart rate is between 130 and 170bpm and the doctor thought it quite likely that at some point over the weekend it would stop. She also said that mum was in a lot of pain, and had been put on a morphine infusion earlier in the day to deal with the pain (previously she was on 30mg Codeine).

The hardest bit to hear was that she didn't think that mum's quality of life would get any better, even if the tumour does shrink a little bit (and the likelihood is that even if they can pull her through this, she will probably not be fit enough for radiotherapy), and she will continue to be in a lot of pain. She said that the consultants - Mr Mady, Mr Williamson and another (Mr Lee?) had met, and felt that the best and kindest thing would be not to resuscitate mum if her heart did stop. Phil and I were left to talk, and we called mum's brother and my aunt (dad's sister) and we all agreed that a DNR was the kindest thing that we could do. We (me and Phil) felt, and still feel, that to bring her back for more pain and suffering and poor quality of life is really just selfishness on our part. So we told the staff that we didn't want them to try and bring her back if her heart or breathing stop.

About 45 mins after the doctor had taken Phil and I aside, and when I finally could think about anything again, I found that my bag, that I'd stupidly dropped at the end of mum's bed earlier had gone missing. Phil's was still there. We searched the ward for it, and couldn't find it. The nursing staff were horrified and reported it to security, and I spent the next hour searching for my bag, reporting the theft and cancelling my cards. In the morning I need to call the DVLA.

There was nothing especially of value in there - just my notebooks (which I'm sad, especially as there were some untyped up stories) to lose) and my backpack (which I'm very sad to lose, especially given it had lots of keyrings I'd collected and things on it which made it an individual thing), and my purse, which had next to no actual money in it, just awkward things like cards and my driving licence in it. But the hour I spent having to report the loss and cancel the cards was an hour I couldn't spend with my critically ill mum, and if she dies tonight I really don't know how I could ever forgive the person who took it.

Mum's partner dropped by during the evening and we told him too. He was very emotional and gave back his key as he left. It was all pretty awful.

We ended up staying past the end of visiting hours, and the staff were very accommodating and left us be. We ended up telling mum and though she hadn't been spoken to explicitly (that she can remember, she's spent most of today pretty much asleep) she didn't seem at all surprised, or even terribly upset. We said that the DNR is ultimately her decision, as despite the sleepiness, her mind is still sharp. She said she agreed with our decision.

We told her how much we love her, and how proud we are of her, and how brilliant she's been and kissed her a lot. She said how much she loves us. We asked if she wanted us to stay and she said no.

So we came home. Via my aunties, who made us drinks and listened to us go through it logically. Ben drove home, which is good because I'm not sure I was capable.

Writing it all out now, it probably sounds a good deal more calm than it was. It involved much more intermittent crying from everyone (except mum) than I state here. Now I'm rather calmer. Still fairly near tears but oddly numb.

Today was awful. Really awful. Really really awful. And there's only a slim chance it will get better soon. Thank you to everyone who has sent thoughts and prayers. They're helping keep me afloat right now. More of the same please.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered
lizziec: (me - mummy and little lizzie)
Ben and I spent some time today sorting out some flowers and a balloon for mum's cubicle at the hospital, to make it a little more bright, having first checked that the ward allows flowers. We ended up getting a beautiful box of flowers from Mad Lillies in Banstead, which is where we got our wedding flowers from. That done, and with Phil back from work, we all headed up to Tooting to visit mum, getting to the hospital at about 5:15pm.

It was immediately clear that mum was worse than yesterday. They had her hooked up to a heart monitor, nasal oxygen on her and several different lines and things going in to her. She looked much weaker than yesterday, much sleepier, and she was having more nasty puss-y discharge from her nose than yesterday. Ben said hi and then went down to the cafe for a coffee - St Georges helpfully has an M&S food hall and cafe, which is a real bonus and all round fabulous idea - and Phil and I dumped our bags at the end of the bed, and then went through mum's post with her and read to her from BBC History magazine, which was all I had on me.

After a bit, one of the doctors came over and wanted to speak with me and Phil, so we dropped everything and went with her to a private room. A nurse got me a hot drink and really I should have known. That is never ever a good sign.

What the doctor had to say was incredibly hard for Phil and I to hear. What she wanted to do was tell us where we were up to today, and discuss with us a Do Not Resuscitate order.

She explained to us that while mum's blood sugar was much better (down to 11), she was much much worse than she had been 24 hours earlier. Mum's heart is getting very weak and mum herself is very tired. And she didn't mean that in a "she'll sleep and wake up refreshed" way, but in a "probably wanting to die" sort of way. And mum herself said later that she was very tired. Mum's resting heart rate is between 130 and 170bpm and the doctor thought it quite likely that at some point over the weekend it would stop. She also said that mum was in a lot of pain, and had been put on a morphine infusion earlier in the day to deal with the pain (previously she was on 30mg Codeine).

The hardest bit to hear was that she didn't think that mum's quality of life would get any better, even if the tumour does shrink a little bit (and the likelihood is that even if they can pull her through this, she will probably not be fit enough for radiotherapy), and she will continue to be in a lot of pain. She said that the consultants - Mr Mady, Mr Williamson and another (Mr Lee?) had met, and felt that the best and kindest thing would be not to resuscitate mum if her heart did stop. Phil and I were left to talk, and we called mum's brother and my aunt (dad's sister) and we all agreed that a DNR was the kindest thing that we could do. We (me and Phil) felt, and still feel, that to bring her back for more pain and suffering and poor quality of life is really just selfishness on our part. So we told the staff that we didn't want them to try and bring her back if her heart or breathing stop.

About 45 mins after the doctor had taken Phil and I aside, and when I finally could think about anything again, I found that my bag, that I'd stupidly dropped at the end of mum's bed earlier had gone missing. Phil's was still there. We searched the ward for it, and couldn't find it. The nursing staff were horrified and reported it to security, and I spent the next hour searching for my bag, reporting the theft and cancelling my cards. In the morning I need to call the DVLA.

There was nothing especially of value in there - just my notebooks (which I'm sad, especially as there were some untyped up stories) to lose) and my backpack (which I'm very sad to lose, especially given it had lots of keyrings I'd collected and things on it which made it an individual thing), and my purse, which had next to no actual money in it, just awkward things like cards and my driving licence in it. But the hour I spent having to report the loss and cancel the cards was an hour I couldn't spend with my critically ill mum, and if she dies tonight I really don't know how I could ever forgive the person who took it.

Mum's partner dropped by during the evening and we told him too. He was very emotional and gave back his key as he left. It was all pretty awful.

We ended up staying past the end of visiting hours, and the staff were very accommodating and left us be. We ended up telling mum and though she hadn't been spoken to explicitly (that she can remember, she's spent most of today pretty much asleep) she didn't seem at all surprised, or even terribly upset. We said that the DNR is ultimately her decision, as despite the sleepiness, her mind is still sharp. She said she agreed with our decision.

We told her how much we love her, and how proud we are of her, and how brilliant she's been and kissed her a lot. She said how much she loves us. We asked if she wanted us to stay and she said no.

So we came home. Via my aunties, who made us drinks and listened to us go through it logically. Ben drove home, which is good because I'm not sure I was capable.

Writing it all out now, it probably sounds a good deal more calm than it was. It involved much more intermittent crying from everyone (except mum) than I state here. Now I'm rather calmer. Still fairly near tears but oddly numb.

Today was awful. Really awful. Really really awful. And there's only a slim chance it will get better soon. Thank you to everyone who has sent thoughts and prayers. They're helping keep me afloat right now. More of the same please.

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered
lizziec: (animals - gerbil - stan eating)
I slept the clock around last night. I'd gone to bed at 1am on Sunday night and got up at 5:30 and was clearly shattered by the end of the day as I fell asleep at about 10pm and woke up at around 10am, feeling much better, though from there I've become progressively fed up, grumpy and down. I suppose it's just one of those days.

Mum was released from the Day Surgery Unit at around 2 or 3pm yesterday feeling "as if [she] could run a mile". I suppose that's uber hospital drugs for you. The doctor took several samples of the tumour and while he was there he cleared out a bunch of gunk (mostly pus as I understand it) from mum's sinuses, so she feels much less congested at least, though it hasn't helped with any of the major tumour symptoms (the numbness and muscle weakness in her face, eye, nose, mouth; difficulty eating; deafness in one ear; shaking [a newish symptom] etc), it has slowed the perma-nosebleed to almost nothing, which I think is a great relief to us. Mr Tesco delivered some supplies with the groceries (namely micropore and gauze) so if it starts again we can rig up our own nose sling in imitation of the one they rigged up for mum yesterday at the hospital.

Results of the biopsy are due Thursday and my aunt (who has worked at St Georges and still volunteers there) told me yesterday that she was arranging everything. She's scouted out the best dropping off place, is arranging for a wheelchair to meet us there in case mum's unsteady on her feet (she's needed a wheelchair the last two times we've been to hospital) and tracked down the medical receptionist/admin type person who deals with the specific clinic and they're making sure that everything that is needed is there as a favour to my aunt. I guess knowing someone really can make a difference, and let's be frank - having a medical receptionist/secretary/admin person on your side can make a real difference.

While mum was feeling good I managed to have a couple of conversations with her about stuff that needed to be done, people to see and phone calls to make. It was apparently the perfect time as she felt like listening and was also feeling pessmistic about her prognosis, which while not ideal, meant that she gave some of my ideas the thought they at least deserved.

Got a response from Careline (attached to Diabetes UK) today, who I contacted yesterday with a panicked enquiry about the stupid diabetic nurses' comments that all weight loss was good when it came to type 2. Careline basically agreed with Macmillan (and directed me to them) about how uncontrolled, cancer related weight loss is bad and mum should see about getting referred to a proper, specialist dietician as a priority. It's been added to a list of things to ask her GP about when she next sees him (along with asking for different/better anti-emetics as the ones she has don't seem to work well and make her very sleepy). Take that stupid diabetes nurse!

As I mentioned I seem to have spent a good deal of this afternoon getting wound up with various things and increasingly fed up. Not entirely sure why everything is getting to me today, but it's not helpful. At one point I had a long list of things I was annoyed and fed up about. Thankfully reeling the list off to [livejournal.com profile] benc over the phone and a lesser list to [livejournal.com profile] red_pill in person helped a little.

Pondering going home (Canterbury) on Thursday night, but it all depends on what happens on Thursday's ENT appointment. I'm finding it difficult to see past that at the moment, which I suppose (looking at it objectively) isn't helping my mood much.

Phil's first driving lesson tomorrow, which is rather scary. Coulsdon and Wallington, you have been warned. Stay off the roads :P

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered
lizziec: (animals - gerbil - stan eating)
I slept the clock around last night. I'd gone to bed at 1am on Sunday night and got up at 5:30 and was clearly shattered by the end of the day as I fell asleep at about 10pm and woke up at around 10am, feeling much better, though from there I've become progressively fed up, grumpy and down. I suppose it's just one of those days.

Mum was released from the Day Surgery Unit at around 2 or 3pm yesterday feeling "as if [she] could run a mile". I suppose that's uber hospital drugs for you. The doctor took several samples of the tumour and while he was there he cleared out a bunch of gunk (mostly pus as I understand it) from mum's sinuses, so she feels much less congested at least, though it hasn't helped with any of the major tumour symptoms (the numbness and muscle weakness in her face, eye, nose, mouth; difficulty eating; deafness in one ear; shaking [a newish symptom] etc), it has slowed the perma-nosebleed to almost nothing, which I think is a great relief to us. Mr Tesco delivered some supplies with the groceries (namely micropore and gauze) so if it starts again we can rig up our own nose sling in imitation of the one they rigged up for mum yesterday at the hospital.

Results of the biopsy are due Thursday and my aunt (who has worked at St Georges and still volunteers there) told me yesterday that she was arranging everything. She's scouted out the best dropping off place, is arranging for a wheelchair to meet us there in case mum's unsteady on her feet (she's needed a wheelchair the last two times we've been to hospital) and tracked down the medical receptionist/admin type person who deals with the specific clinic and they're making sure that everything that is needed is there as a favour to my aunt. I guess knowing someone really can make a difference, and let's be frank - having a medical receptionist/secretary/admin person on your side can make a real difference.

While mum was feeling good I managed to have a couple of conversations with her about stuff that needed to be done, people to see and phone calls to make. It was apparently the perfect time as she felt like listening and was also feeling pessmistic about her prognosis, which while not ideal, meant that she gave some of my ideas the thought they at least deserved.

Got a response from Careline (attached to Diabetes UK) today, who I contacted yesterday with a panicked enquiry about the stupid diabetic nurses' comments that all weight loss was good when it came to type 2. Careline basically agreed with Macmillan (and directed me to them) about how uncontrolled, cancer related weight loss is bad and mum should see about getting referred to a proper, specialist dietician as a priority. It's been added to a list of things to ask her GP about when she next sees him (along with asking for different/better anti-emetics as the ones she has don't seem to work well and make her very sleepy). Take that stupid diabetes nurse!

As I mentioned I seem to have spent a good deal of this afternoon getting wound up with various things and increasingly fed up. Not entirely sure why everything is getting to me today, but it's not helpful. At one point I had a long list of things I was annoyed and fed up about. Thankfully reeling the list off to [livejournal.com profile] benc over the phone and a lesser list to [livejournal.com profile] red_pill in person helped a little.

Pondering going home (Canterbury) on Thursday night, but it all depends on what happens on Thursday's ENT appointment. I'm finding it difficult to see past that at the moment, which I suppose (looking at it objectively) isn't helping my mood much.

Phil's first driving lesson tomorrow, which is rather scary. Coulsdon and Wallington, you have been warned. Stay off the roads :P

ETA: 12/07/11 No longer filtered
lizziec: (toys - ikeagiraffe)
I meant to post about this last night but I went to lie down at 8pm and only just woke up. Oops ;)

I spent a lot of time in the car yesterday listening to the radio*, about 3 hours to be exact, and I got increacingly irate at the way the "final hours of George Best" and the "death of George Best" (or as the BBC put it "Fans pay tribute to legend Best") were played out by the media.

I don't think this man's death should be seen as anything special. He was an alcoholic and apparently also abused his ex-wife. He lived a life of excess, paid the consequences for it, though got another chance with a liver transplant that he then wasted.

A liver transplant that could have saved someone else. Perhaps a young person. Perhaps a young mother or father with children, people who wouldn't have wasted that liver.

Grr.

Who did this man think he was? He may have been a great footballer (dunno, he was well before my time), but to me he appeared a selfish old man who assumed that the rules didn't apply to him. His death should not be greatly mourned by anyone but his family. This is even worse than the fuss over Diana (who was not a saint, I don't care how many of you like to imagine she was, grr), who at least acted as a stronger role model than Best.

What really frustrates me are all the comments on the BBC's "Have Your Say" thread about the passing of "the legendary footballer".

So many of them run like this:

"Northern Ireland's finest son. George Best was the BEST!"
"George was simply the best!! He will be remembered as a lovely man who could play a mighty fine game of football. God go with you George xxx"
and
"George has gone and will be emensily missed he is a real legend and no one will be to the same standard as him. I will miss him and i'm sure everyone else will as well!! :-("

Grr. There are times I dispair of the majority of this country >.<

I at least take some solace in the fact that all the comments that have been "reader reccommended" are along the lines of:

"A genius on the football pitch? Yes. Someone who deserves to rest in peace? Yes. Someone who deserves to be reverred? Not necessarily. This man had the chance to change his life with his liver transplant, and yet could not overcome his addiction. He should be a warning to everyone."
"To anyone under the age of 35, he was better known as an alcoholic than as a footballer. The news coverage has been totally out of proportion to his death."
"I am sad at the loss of a life, but I can't believe the hype surrounding George Best's death. There have been other, more worthy people, whose demise has gone relatively unreported and who, if given the chance of an extended life as George Best was through his transplant, would have not wasted it."
and
"Sad as anyone's passing is, I've been most disturbed by the almost way ghoulish way in which his passing has been reported in the press - the hour by hour updates, the "in his last hours" headlines. In a world where thousands of people in the mountains of Kashmir, in Niger and elsewhere are dying early and preventable deaths, lets not make the self-inflicted passing of a great footballer the top story of the day."

Although these comments are by far in the minority they have been the most reccommended. Maybe the majority of people are silent and with me on my thoughts after all.

I hope so.

*This is because I went to a prize giving evening at Phil's old school - seperate entry about that later
lizziec: (toys - ikeagiraffe)
I meant to post about this last night but I went to lie down at 8pm and only just woke up. Oops ;)

I spent a lot of time in the car yesterday listening to the radio*, about 3 hours to be exact, and I got increacingly irate at the way the "final hours of George Best" and the "death of George Best" (or as the BBC put it "Fans pay tribute to legend Best") were played out by the media.

I don't think this man's death should be seen as anything special. He was an alcoholic and apparently also abused his ex-wife. He lived a life of excess, paid the consequences for it, though got another chance with a liver transplant that he then wasted.

A liver transplant that could have saved someone else. Perhaps a young person. Perhaps a young mother or father with children, people who wouldn't have wasted that liver.

Grr.

Who did this man think he was? He may have been a great footballer (dunno, he was well before my time), but to me he appeared a selfish old man who assumed that the rules didn't apply to him. His death should not be greatly mourned by anyone but his family. This is even worse than the fuss over Diana (who was not a saint, I don't care how many of you like to imagine she was, grr), who at least acted as a stronger role model than Best.

What really frustrates me are all the comments on the BBC's "Have Your Say" thread about the passing of "the legendary footballer".

So many of them run like this:

"Northern Ireland's finest son. George Best was the BEST!"
"George was simply the best!! He will be remembered as a lovely man who could play a mighty fine game of football. God go with you George xxx"
and
"George has gone and will be emensily missed he is a real legend and no one will be to the same standard as him. I will miss him and i'm sure everyone else will as well!! :-("

Grr. There are times I dispair of the majority of this country >.<

I at least take some solace in the fact that all the comments that have been "reader reccommended" are along the lines of:

"A genius on the football pitch? Yes. Someone who deserves to rest in peace? Yes. Someone who deserves to be reverred? Not necessarily. This man had the chance to change his life with his liver transplant, and yet could not overcome his addiction. He should be a warning to everyone."
"To anyone under the age of 35, he was better known as an alcoholic than as a footballer. The news coverage has been totally out of proportion to his death."
"I am sad at the loss of a life, but I can't believe the hype surrounding George Best's death. There have been other, more worthy people, whose demise has gone relatively unreported and who, if given the chance of an extended life as George Best was through his transplant, would have not wasted it."
and
"Sad as anyone's passing is, I've been most disturbed by the almost way ghoulish way in which his passing has been reported in the press - the hour by hour updates, the "in his last hours" headlines. In a world where thousands of people in the mountains of Kashmir, in Niger and elsewhere are dying early and preventable deaths, lets not make the self-inflicted passing of a great footballer the top story of the day."

Although these comments are by far in the minority they have been the most reccommended. Maybe the majority of people are silent and with me on my thoughts after all.

I hope so.

*This is because I went to a prize giving evening at Phil's old school - seperate entry about that later

September 2013

S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
15 161718192021
22232425262728
2930     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated 24 May 2017 03:37 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios