So I Made It To 53

Those that know my family's history will also know how the number 53 is a pretty big and dramatic number for some, especially considering those we lost when they reached that age.

I really thought that I'd be joining them this time last year as I lay in hospital stitched up, taped up, tubes in various parts of my body, with so many needles having been jabbed into me and feeling pain the likes of which I never want to feel again.

The truth is I'm still nowhere near a hundred percent, but getting so many birthday wishes means a lot to me, and I will gladly take that support with me when I'm back in hospital for further treatment soon.

You Meet All Sorts on a Hospital Ward

It’s been about a year since the last of my hospital stays and my operation, and because of this I’ve been taking a trip down memory lane, recalling some of the unpleasant things I had to go through.

My thoughts have been wandering to the time I spent on the Acute Medical Unit ward at the Norfolk & Norwich Hospital when I first went back in. The various AMUs are a little step-up from the Accident and Emergency department. Patients with a wide array of ailments were kept there before they were transferred to specialist units.

For instance, the bed to the left of me in the ward I was in featured an array of characters, a young lad with a kidney complaint, an old boy with a broken leg who ripped down one of my curtains because he felt cold, and another man who ended up urinating in the corridor just outside the door.

So What Did the Surgery Have to Say?

It’s been about a month since I posted my letter of complaint on this old blog of mine. It’s got quite a few hints since then, so it’s about time I told you what my local GP surgery said in reply.

But before I do that here’s a little reminder of why I sent it to them. You see, after everything that I’ve been through in the past year I considered not bothering, but when their mental health nurse said that perhaps I would get some form of closure about the way they treated me if I complained.

So what did they say? Did they accept responsibility for the misdiagnosis? Did the reception team accept any responsibility for the way they treated me?

I Can't Really Stop Breathing, Can I?

Recently medical types have summed up my situation perfectly:

If I had sprained my wrist or twisted my ankle it would be strapped up and I'd be told not to use it or put any weight on it.
But because it was my diaphragm that was operated on it's a completely different situation. I can't rest my diaphragm because I need it to breath and it's in use 24/7. That's why it's so painful at times and that's why it's taking so long to recover from my operation.

It's getting to the point now where I'm kind of getting used to things being this way.

The Day I Complained About My Treatment

Today marks the first anniversary of the day I was admitted to hospital, one of the scariest and most stressful days of my entire life. On the plus side though it meant that I was finally getting the treatment I needed.

A few months ago the mental health nurses at the GP surgery suggested that I put in an official complaint with the practice manager regarding my early treatment, suggesting that it might bring me some sort of closure. 

This was something I considered doing after my first stay in hospital, but it became something that I was somewhat reluctant to do until that appointment with the nurse.

So now, on this most momentous of days, I'm sharing the letter I sent to the practice manager a few months ago. I have recieved replies to this complaint, and the matter, as far as they are concerned, is closed. If this post gets enough hits I may share those replies with you. All I will say for now is that I didn't get the sort of closure the nurse was suggesting.

Why Are There Lights Outside My Window?

My favourite recent Facebook post came from a town's community page. A woman was complaining about the flashing lights she'd seen outside her house the night before, and she asked if anyone else had been woken up by them.

Several other people also complained about the lights and how they're sleep had also been affected. The last post from the thread I saw revealed what had disturbed their peaceful slumber on that fateful night. Turns out it was a thunder storm.

I really think some people shouldn't be left unsupervised.

Bye Bye Garden Centre

At 2pm today Overstrand will be without it's garden centre for the first time in decades. Can't help but feel a little sad. Best job I ever had, which I sadly had to give up back in 2002.

Thanks for the memories peeps. I like to think we did our bit to make the business what it was for the future owners.

It's a Shame to See It Like This

Bertram Watts used to be one of the best shops in Sheringham, one of the places I always used to go to whenever I was in town, along with the likes of Starlings and Peggs Records.

They closed down a few years ago to become one of those bargain shops, the sort that probably ran out of loo paper four years ago. It was pretty much the same sort of stuff that other shops in Sheringham, such as Nobby's, used to do.

Walked past today on my way to the dentist to see it's closed again and up for rent.

It's a shame to see it like this, especially considering what it was like all those years ago when it was thriving.

I Love Retail But I Hate People

Seeing the stories about what's happening at my old stomping ground in Overstrand is stirring up some bad memories.

I love working in customer service, always enjoyed helping people, but there are times when you want to grab hold of them and give them a good....well, you know.

"Where am I going to get my (insert name of product here) from now?" should always be met with this reply from the sales assistant: "Where am I going to earn a living now? How am I going to pay my bills?"

Or the one I was tempted to use during the dying days of Claws 'N' Paws: "Stop being a selfish c**t and consider other people for a change."

I love retail, but there are times when I really hate people.

My Take on the Events of the Past Few Days

Here's my little take on the events of the past few days......

You see, it's pretty disgusting that these people, and I use that term loosely, are using false information spread online to justify rioting in the names of the three girls who were murdered in Southport last week.

It's disgusting that they're causing carnage and endangering lives up and down the land, fuelled by lies and hatred, some of which is spread by people in the public eye, people in positions of power and influence around the world.

Now I'm assuming that some of these people, and again I used that term quite loosely, are getting injured as they espouse their right-wing rhetoric while looting grocery stores and hurling bricks and mortar at his majesty's police force.

Take the chap in the photo for instance. You've probably seen quite a bit of him over the past few days after he took a shot to the back of his head followed by a shot to the groin. Oh, did I mention that the bricks that caused the damage were launched by his own comrades?

Anyway, I'm assuming that the poor fellow would have been in need of hospital treatment, and given that he'd probably been blaming all of his country's ills on those pesky immigrants he would have probably been in for a surprise when he walked into A&E.