Bendy Dreams

It's rare enough that I remember dreams, and disability tends to be a bit inconsistent in them. But last night/this morning was the first time I've dreamed of being hypermobile. Of course being a dream it couldn't just simply be 'Oh, you're bendy', no, I had managed to dislocate both left shoulder and right knee. Which is a slightly odd combination as while my left shoulder is dodgy, it's the right one that subluxes, and my right knee is one of the few joints I rarely have issues with.

I suspect the trigger for the dream was writing down notes for my wheelchair assessment next week. I don't recall the 'plot' per se of the dream, but whatever had caused the dislocations, I ended up being treated by itinerant Americans who for some reason had taken over a British hospital. It's logic, Jim, but not as we know it.

The afternoon from Hell

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!