As soon as my Kindle screen froze and refused to work, I knew it was going to be one of those days. The sense of impending doom I felt last week when my appointment was postponed descended once more. As a bookworm, immersing myself into another reality is my coping strategy when things are tough. My Kindle has been well used these last few weeks, which could explain it’s demise. Turning a page by the touch of a button is a lot easier than physically flicking the page one-handed when you are pretzel lying down. With no electronic reading library to turn, I grabbed a small paperback I borrowed from the library and prayed it would be a story I could get into.
The uneasy feeling remained throughout the journey despite the glorious sunrise and the barn owl swooping across a flat field to a fence post as we drove by. Every mile or so it seemed, I felt my shoulder and neck pull and stiffen. Cars and dystonia do not mix. Traffic slowed down to a stop as blue flashing lights appeared ahead. Time was slipping by and despite leaving in plenty of time, the fear of being late grew. As the snarl up eased and we trundled on our way, it was evident we would be late but only by a few minutes.
Arriving at the hospital and debating which building it was, we were directed to the ward. I was given verbal directions of where to go once I arrived at the entrance but I am a spoonie with brain fog. Even before my brain cell had its wobble, I was useless with directions. I do not know my left and right unless I can refer to the scar on my hand. When I was still driving, it was common for me to arrive home late because I took the wrong turning on a roundabout. I have taken so many wrong turns, all roads look familiar. Verbal directions, especially over the phone when I can not see people’s gestures to help, are a mish mash of ” blah blah old corridor turn left blah blah double doors blah blah”. I can normally pick out enough landmarks to find my way but today that strategy failed.
Arriving at the ward, I knew something had gone completely wrong when staff look panicked when I said I had a test booked. Papers got shuffled, manic typing of keyboard occurred and then the phone calls were made. Several minutes later ,the news was broken we were at the wrong hospital!
Whether the original mistake was theirs or mine, after all I am the one with the dodgy brain cell, we will never know. I do know I did try to get a confirmation letter of the time, date and location but I was told it is no longer policy to send out letters. To me this makes no sense, especially in neurology. I like things written in black and write, to be read and reread repeatedly or shared wich others as back up. As my handwriting is affected, scribbling down notes as I talk on the phone is not the most reliable. Even I can’t decipher my writing!
I ticked off bad things that had happened – Kindle, accident and wrong location – I came up with three so decided we were OK for the rest of the day. Fighting back tears and trying to control a twisting body, I decided I would rather have gone to the wrong hospital than have the procedure to go wrong as the last problem. I am not superstitious at all
It is a 3 minute journey from one hospital to the next according to the SatNav. An hour and half later, we were struggling to find a parking space. The hospital had phoned to see where we were. I missed the call as I fumbled one-handed to find the phone. Balancing the phone on a spasming knee, using the wrong hand ( my dominant one was preoccupied with practising it contortionists ability) I managed to listen to the message. Afer many repeated listens on speaker I managed to scrawl the number down. It was decided we were too late for things to be done. One test occurs over 6 hours but it has to be done after a lumbar puncture. That requires blood test results before hand. As a day ward they shut in the evening and the lab was also unavailable that late (for that night only). It just wasn’t meant to be happening that day. Resigned rather than angry or frustrated, a new date was made. One more week of no yellows.
On the plus side
- I have met the staff on the ward and they are nice
- Talking to the doctor has made me slightly less apprehensive about having it done (emphasis on slightly)
- We know the correct hospital and where the ward is
- The next appointment doesn’t clash with the junior doctors strikes
- A couple of hours later, I was drinking a cup of tea that wasn’t a NHS version (the traffic had miraculously melted away for the home journey)
- I will have some reading material with me next time.
- I know to ALWAYS check which hospital to attend, not just time and ward.