Life in the straightjacket

Sitting in the village surgery waiting room (just for a change) there was a long delay and the room was almost full. Three elderly ladies were putting the world to rights and debated the perils of autumn leaves in the garden, the old man down the road and the problems of getting a decent winter vest, over the course of fifteen minutes or so. They were then joined by another lady who told them that the postal-strike talks over the previous two days had now apparently broken down. "What?" said the hithertoo quietest of the other three, "God knows what they find to talk about," she said, "two whole days and they talk about absolutely nothing." Three single words came into my mind, pot, kettle and black.

Mother in Law was re-admitted to hospital after some stitches from her recent surgery started to bleed out. Naturally WH had gone in with her and had been away from here 8 hours or so dealing with it all. Half an hour after his return, the ward sister phoned to tell us of Mother in Law's admission as Mother in Law thought we might not know.

I found a lovely quote in a book I was reading by Santa Montefiore. Being questioned about his background, a chap who wanted to be evasive gave the following answer "My parents are in the iron and steel business, Mother irons and Father steals." I love it, just wish I had an opportunity to use it.

On a black, rainy, dismal day last week, the engineer arrived to set up our new stereo system. He'd come from Bristol and his sat-nav had sent him up some tiny country lanes but eventually he had hit the main drag so to speak, down the valley and into our small village. He was full of it, the narrow lanes and high hedges and the view from the top of the hill, the little village spread out below and he couldn't stop enthusing about it. "All we need is some sun and it would look like paradise," On a good day, I almost agree.

WH has his right arm in plaster, the result of his fall from the porch roof several weeks ago. Last Monday the wires were removed from the break in his wrist and he goes back to be assessed a week tomorrow. He hopes he will be having the plaster removed but it is not a given, he has to have the break X-rayed first. His left foot is not in plaster although he has a broken bone. After a week in plaster it was stable, so after scans and X-rays whilst he was under anaesthetic having his wrist wired, the plaster was removed. This to make his life a little easier although had he not had the wrist injury the leg would be still in plaster. He is not supposed to weight bear more than 50% on that foot and crutches are out of the question due to the broken wrist so he hobbles along with a stick.

Being self employed WH applied for Incapacity Benefit, as his is right as a payer of National Insurance contributions. He has no other income right now. You can't pay yourself Statutory Sick Pay so that is what you do when you're Self Employed. The forms were complicated and he had to send medical certificates etc in his case issued by the hospital on the day of his original accident. After about 4 weeks he was notified he would get a minimal payment. This week however he has been summonsed to attend a medical assessment interview by the Department for Work and Pensions (or rather their big buddies Atos Healthcare). If he had any questions he could phone a number. He did. He phoned. He asked why he had to be assessed given his spectacular, plain to see injuries and the fact he had a medical certificate describing this which more than covered him. He still has a black eye 6 weeks after the event.

He was told he has to be checked to make sure he really has broken his wrist etc. This check will be carried out by a "health care professional", NOT a doctor then. A certificate issued by a doctor is not sufficient. If he doesn't attend the assessment his benefit will be stopped.

His anger rapidly turned to disbelief was he when he was told that that the BA has to make sure that he is not capable of any work. He told them he HAS work when he is fit again, after all he runs his own business and strangely has had more enquiries from customers in the last 6 weeks than he has had all year. He questioned what sort of work a person could do who was immobile and can't use their dominant hand. "Oh there may be something."

So the appointment was made. A letter confirming this arrived yesterday along with a leaflet basically designed to scare the crap out of anyone who was thinking of not turning up. Attached to the appointment was a 'route plan' giving detailed instructions of how to get to the centre, which is 27 miles away, via public transport. Now we live in a rural area. Buses are not very frequent so the gist of this was that in order to arrive at a 2.10pm appointment he needed to leave home at 9 minutes past ten, take a bus 15 miles in the wrong direction, wait half an hour then take another bus past where he had come from followed by another 7 buses with finally a walk of 16 minutes duration. The route proudly proclaimed "Number of changes = 7, Journey duration 2hrs 44 minutes". You would then have to wait over an hour for the appointment which was likely to take a "minimum of 75 minutes but allow 2 hours in total". No return route was sent as as it can't be done on the same day. There is no public transport. There was no suggestion as to what he should do in that case. The booklet supplied states that "You will not be asked to attend an examination centre which would require a journey of more than 90 minutes each way by public transport" No problem with doing that then in the case of someone with their leg in plaster.

Well obviously I will be driving him there. It takes about 40 minutes and we can park quite close by in a public car park.

My question is this. If someone is desperate for the benefit, and given the parlous state of the NHS there are undoubtedly genuine claimants out there, how are they supposed to manage all this when they are going in the first place because they are ill? More to the point why is the Department for Work and Pensions wasting money paying fees to Atos Healthcare to assess people who clearly are very incapacitated but who fully intend to return to their regular job or business when they have recovered? A case of jobs for the boys I think and bugger the poor old public yet again.

Atos Healthcare? All they care about is their bank balance.

I've finally sold my old house. Eighteen months ago I tried to sell, gave up and rented it, then had to kick the tenants out because they wrecked it and then I re-marketed. Now some 14 weeks after I accepted an offer I finally have the money in the bank and the paperwork all completed. Not a moment too soon. The estate agent was no help at all, and considering the huge fee I had to pay them, I still did all the chasing-up myself.

This week we have a gardener starting on the back at last. this was to be WH's project over a month ago but falling off the roof gave him a good excuse not to! Now, weeks of glorious weather wasted we have finally found a chap who can dig, put in fence-posts and lay a block wall. If it keeps reasonably dry I might have some plantable ground by November.

Who knows by next spring, after owning this house for two whole years, I may even have a garden to call my own!

One of the various books the girls and their grandmother gave me for my birthday was Dear Friend and Gardener a series of letters between well known gardeners Beth Chatto and Christopher Lloyd. Written over a two year period some 12 plus years ago it's a lovely read and I find myself sitting up until all hours, visions of the varieties and the settings they each describe whizzing through my brain. Odd snippets of everyday life sneak in too, recipes, people met and meals shared along with a very few mentions of current affairs (the death of Princess Diana being a notable inclusion) which help to place it in context and time. I am amazed I had never read this before, it was on my 'list' but not a high priority. With about 60 pages left to go I will miss it when it ends.

My main present was a breadmaker and having now used it twice I am full of plans for future uses. When married in my twenties I used to make all our own bread and did so for about 10 years until newly single again I had no need of so much, nor the time to do it. I've never really taken it up again since mainly because of WH's love of white sliced! With a breadmaker I can indulge myself in a less time consuming way and make the beloved white as well. In fact I tried that first and it came out beautifully, so much so I was reduced to eating the crust myself along with homemade plum jam. This morning I had my first taste of a home-baked seeded loaf which was good but not as dense as I would like. Recently in Denmark I was eating good rye bread with wholegrains and it finally crystallised in my brain that this is the bread I really enjoy, so I can see I will be experimenting more and more until I perfect my own staple bread. Meanwhile, WH is more than happy with a white loaf from a Hovis ready mix.

This last fortnight has been one long round of hospital appointments, plasters being removed and replaced, physiotherapy and an operation last Tuesday. WH is still in quite a bad way. The break to the wrist was a 'nasty' one and has had to eb wired into place. The foot is now plaster-less but hurts like hell, we're awaiting the 'Ortho Reg' to call with a new game plan. Plaster, CT scan or strapping. The head injury appeared to have subsided but the anaesthetic on Tuesday had some strange effects and even now he is suffering from vertigo or it's close cousin. The bruised cheekbone is still black. We even had the doctor out to the house on Thursday after a particularly spectacular session. I am learning to be nursemaid and normally have endless patience, having been fairly immobile at times in my past, but even I was weary last night and was thinking it would be lovely to have a cup of tea I had not made myself. Cooking which to me is a welcome distraction has gone out of the window as the patient just isn't eating.

Visitors have been fairly few, although the phone almost answers itself now and I don't mean the answerphone either. Sometimes I wish for more knocks on the door as it would no doubt cheer the patient up no end, we are in grave danger of a deep depression setting in.

One constant has been the presence of two grey fluffy nurses who are attentive at most times although they do have a habit of falling asleep on the job. Misty as Night Nurse snuggles in and stays put for 6 hours plus although if WH gets up to change position or for a shuffle about he's a bit reluctant to move at all. Nelson keeps watch from the back of the sofa, his tail curling down over WH's head. Unusually he has been home a lot, the retired major up the road has lost his furry doormat for the season.

As usual these things always come at the wrong time, not that there is a right time for an accident. I have finally sold the other house, after a 3 month spell of being messed about by the potential purchaser we exchange contracts next week and complete the following one. Hope I have not hexed this by finally putting it in print here. It's not a moment too soon. However and there is always an however in my experience, we had left the removal of some pretty hefty tool shelving in the garage until the last. Now of course it has to be removed and in a hurry. WH was due to do this the day after his accident. Today I hope that Brother in Law and his Best Mate will be coming to dismantle it all and to hopefully remove it to our business lock up for use up there. The grill, bacon and fresh bread are waiting, small price to pay if a few butties help get the job done.

As for the rest of my day it will be very quiet, a planned supper with a few friends cancelled in the light of WH still at risk of throwing up any second. Strange way for me to spend a birthday but hey, there's a first time for everything.

WH fell off the porch roof yesterday. The complaining painter (CP) and I were indoors when we heard a strange thud and a muffled cry. CP rushed outside, he was nearer the door, and immediately shouted for me to call an ambulance. WH was strangely silent and was in a crumpled heap on the floor. An ambulance trip and 4 long hours at the hospital confirmed the damage: a broken wrist, badly bruised face and eye, sprained ankle, torn foot ligaments and concussion. He has cuts and bruises over his whole body. It seems the ladder moved away from the wall as he was climbing off the roof and that he had twisted and hit the front step as he fell, hence the huge black eye. The doctors were bemused by the fact the injuries are diagonal, usually they all one side. The worst problem right now is the head injury, every time he moves he feels dizzy and WH is not one for keeping still. Short of chaining him down I don't know the answer to that one.

Additionally we now have a large plaster and instructions to keep it on for 8 weeks. It's going to be a toughie. I just ordered a new wide screen tv online. I think he's going to need it. As for the building work, we just finished the porch, the rest looks like it's on hold until next year now. Late November will not be the time to start projects outside. The work will have to go on into a third summer.

Excuse me whilst I do some screaming.