Lexin

I’m exhausted, and I don’t know why. I’m working with my CPAP machine quite well, and it works, but I’m starting to fall asleep in the afternoons again.

Mind you, I had a good reason yesterday. When I went to hospital at the end of January, I was given a prescription. I took it to the pharmacy but it turned out that the doctor (whom I suspect to be a locum) had not signed or dated the scrip, and therefore it was useless. On Monday I had a letter from the hospital about the appointment, and usefully there was a phone number.

I rang the number and was told that if I came to the hospital at 09:15 on Wednesday, they’d give me a new prescription. I rather balked at the time, but I pulled myself from my bed at a sparrow’s fart and made it to the hospital by 09:10. Great, I thought, I will be home by 10:15. Not so. I was finally given my new prescription at 11:00, and had been excruciatingly bored, not to mention cold. Most hospitals seem to be overheated, but that one is always cold.

Worse, when I left the hospital to catch a bus home, I had to wait in the freezing wind. By the time the bus came, the muscles of my face wouldn’t move, and I wondered if that’s what Botox feels like.

I made it home at about 11:30, and had a hot breakfast at the local club, which has a café at the back during the mornings. It was very nice to have a meal I hadn’t prepared myself. Having said that, I’m living largely on breakfast cereal because even heating up ready meals is proving too much for me these days.

Cats

Geraint seems to be doing better, he’s gained some weight and is no longer the skinny cat who originally came here. He plays, has zoomies and when I’m playing my PS5 he curls up at my feet, keeping them warm.

Opal still has a problem with her back – she’s chewing her fur, for all the world like a person with trichotillomania. It really worries me. She’s on Metacam and Gabapentin, but though it helps a bit, it doesn’t solve the problem completely. The vet only suggested that she be fed something that is a specialist food for a cat with a problem with coat and stomach. Again, it helps, but not completely. I give her a taurine supplement and various oils, but really, I’m at a loss.

So, my friend “J” sent out a round robin email wishing our gaming group a Happy New Year, and outlining that he was planning a gaming get together fairly soon at a venue yet to be chosen and a time yet to be decided on. I replied, saying I’d like to come but it depends on the cost.

Nothing happened for a couple of weeks.

Then I got the following email: Me: “I’m up for it if I can afford it.”
“Him”: That's not the main issue: I'm sure we could have a whip round or something.

“I have now looked at various venues but it will be difficult to make a decision as they are so good, if diverse. Even if I confined this decision to those with bedrooms on the ground floor and disabled access, I am still doubtful that you could even manage. You could barely walk in August and I don't feel you could travel for 2-4 hours on public transport without a carer/plus size wheelchair now. Anyway, I don't want the risk of you collapsing in transit on my conscience.

“Unless I find somewhere I feel is particularly possible, participation doesn't seem viable to me. Sorry about that. I hope you understand.”

What this boils down to, shorn of its verbiage, is: I have decided that as a disabled person, you can’t manage, so I have decided you can’t come. I therefore rescind my invitation. Plus, I can’t be arsed to find a suitable venue.

Now, I don’t want to go somewhere where I wouldn’t be welcome, but I’m also well pissed off that he didn’t even ask me what kind of venue I would need.

HNY to all who read here.

Geraint is collecting names; so far he’s Fudge Stealer, Ratbag, Gremlin Stinky Poo Nobbs. He’s a sweetheart when quiet and a nightmare when awake and playing.

Geraint has blotted his copybook and no mistake. He scratched aunty_marion. I think she quite liked him until then. He is quite an unpredictable cat. He’s due at the vets to get his booster shots tomorrow.

Opal has a big area on her back where she’s bitten all her fur off. She looks a mess and I’m going to try to get her to the vet as soon as I’m paid again, because I have no idea what to do for her.

Today Carys (my cleaner) and I discovered that Geraint has become exceptionally protective of me despite being with me for less than a week. And he bites. He really can bite hard.

We did seem to resolve the issue after Carys fed him a few handfuls of his kibble. He appeared to accept her then, though he stuck close to find out what she was doing. He didn’t, however, react badly to the vacuum cleaner or the spot cleaner I have.

In other news, I have bought a bin for my living room that he shouldn’t be able to get into. I grew very weary of putting the rubbish back in the living room bin after he’d dug it all out again.

I told her that if he bites poor Opal and there is blood, I’m going to have to tell the ASDFR people that we’re not a good fit. So far, I have been holding off introducing them.

Picture of Geraint stealing treats

With poor Smokey having gone (and I do miss her dreadfully), I contacted the Anglesey Feline whatsit thingy because I wanted a second cat, and it can take a rescue service months to find a cat which must be kept indoors.

I am thereby caught, because they already had one they were looking for a good home for. His current name is Quata, and he’s a medium haired tabby.

The reason he’s an indoor-only cat is because he has cerebellar hypoplasia, also known as “wobbly cat syndrome”. He’s a sweetheart and not as wobbly as some cats I’ve seen with that condition, but is definitely best kept indoors.

He arrives at my place on Saturday afternoon. I am going to change his name to Geraint, which is a solid Welsh name.

Opal

Opal is over grooming, and I’m not sure why. The area in her middle back is devoid of fur, but she won’t let me put ointment on her, even though it would help. It’s a worry.

I can’t take her to the vet this week as I’m not paid again until Friday, and had a lot of expenses this month, what with cremating Smokey and having to pay the man for repairs on my fence. Fences, as I discovered, are not covered by buildings insurance.

In Flanders Fields
The poem by John McCrae

In Flanders' fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders' fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high,
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders' Fields.

Yesterday I went to Llandudno for my annual check up with the oncology team. People may remember that I had a mastectomy in 2022 following a diagnosis of breast cancer.

Getting there is a minor irritation - it involves a taxi to the station (£7) a train to Llandudno (£5) and then another taxi to the hospital (£9). Then I repeat the performance to get back, doubling the cost. I have done this at various times for five years.

This time, I learn that had I ever asked, I could have scheduled the appointments in Bangor, where I live. A taxi to the hospital does cost £9 (it’s probably gone up) but I can get a bus back which costs me nothing because I have a disabled person’s bus pass covering me for buses in the whole of Wales, plus some trains which I have never got to grips with.

So next time, it will be in Bangor.

The oncologist said he couldn’t feel anything, but I will have to have the usual mammogram, and thankfully that will be in Bangor, too.

In other news

That stomach bug is still showing signs of hanging around. I feel a bit poorly and definitely cold, and I don’t think schlepping to Llandudno helped much.

It’s been several days since I came down with this whatever-it-is but l’m still not quite recovered. Grump.