Idiot.....

Jul. 17th, 2017 08:46 pm
davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)

In shower, peel off opioid patch - 'I must remember to put the new one on when I get out'. (I can't remember if I should have changed it today or yesterday).

5 hours later, sitting in the garden - "Ow!  Ow! Shit!! Fuck! Ow!"

I'm not surprised the painkilling effect ran out, opioids have a half-life in the body, I am surprised it happened so quickly. I had maybe five minutes notice my back was getting uncomfortable, and then suddenly I couldn't bear to be upright.

The solution was obvious of course, put the damned patch on, but it takes several hours to build up to functional levels, so I'm sitting here with my back brace on, which at least keeping things tolerable.

Other than that it was a very pleasant day in the sun with a book and a glass of wine, intermitently broken by consulting with my neighbour across the fence on his hard drive failure - he actually knows more about them than I do as he was network manager for a chain store untll a couple of months ago, And now I'm sitting here on the couch with the door open watching the para-athletics. 

 

 

davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)

AAaaaargggghhh!

It's been a hell of an afternoon. I popped out at 2PM for what should have been a 20 minute errand to book a couple of train tickets. I only took my crutches because the station is a nightmare in a chair. I realised while I was in the queue that the bank holiday is this weekend, not next, which meant I also needed to go to my GPs, pick up my repeat prescription and go to the chemists (the alternative being spending Monday in opiate withdrawal, which is really not my favourite thing).

So I got to the station counter and told them what tickets I needed, and she punches it in.
Me: "And I need the wheelchair seat, I'll be travelling in my chair".
Her: Tap, tap, "It's not giving me the option to book the wheelchair seat. I think they've changed it so you can only book it through passenger assistance".
Me, dubious: "I booked here just a couple of weeks ago without a problem".

So she gets on the phone, and she talks, and she taps, and different receipts keep coming through her printer and she keeps screwing them up because some of them are for two people etc. It gradually becomes clear that whoever is on the other end can book the wheelchair space, but doesn't know how to use the booking system, so she is coaching them key by key.

Half an hour later (and my comfortable standing time limit is about 10 minutes), the system finally spits out the tickets.

I look at them "I don't think these are the wheelchair seat" (They might be, they're at the end of a carriage, but the wheelchair seat is normally coach C, not Coach F)

She gives me an "Oh, god, no." look and says "You'll need to ring passenger assistance."

Then I had to shoot over to Rochester to my GPs, who hadn't done the repeat yet (as it's 48 hour turnaround and I only put it in yesterday), but fortunately the receptionist went and got the doctor to sign it straight away. Then whip home to pick the chair up as there was no way I was going to make it to the chemist's on crutches, and drive back over to Rochester to go the chemists.

My 20 minute errand has taken 3 and a quarter hours, I still have to ring passenger assistance, and I just took my boots off to find one sock is stuck to my foot with dried blood.

I need a beer!

davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)
 Woke up feeling a bit off, and not quite certain why.

Pottered around getting gradually worse, "Damn, this is starting to feel flu-like - Oh, hell!"

Goes to count number of butrans patches left in the box - yep, completely forgot to change it on Tuesday, and now I'm in full-blown opiate withdrawal.

New patch is on now, but it'll take several hours to take effect, in the meantime, I'll be over there in the corner, shivering.

*Headdesk*

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davidgillon: A pair of crutches, hanging from coat hooks, reflected in a mirror (Default)
David Gillon

September 2017

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