Tag Archives: Hospital transport

Someone will die

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When Adam called me yesterday at lunch time, there was something in the tone of his voice, that told me there was something wrong. The other day when he was at home there had been one of those automated phone calls to remind us that I have a hospital appointment next week. It turned out that Adam hadn’t booked the transport, despite my telling him when he took the responsibility over from me, that he had to book it as soon as he was aware of the appointment being made. As always, I couldn’t remember why it was important, and he was determined to do things his way. Yesterday, he called to book not just the ambulance for next week chest clinic appointment, but also the one for two weeks later at the breast screening clinic. He was stunned to find out, that there was no transport available, for either date. In fact, there is no transport available until the beginning of April. When I had gone over the system, explaining that you have to book early, my brain did it’s usual, it totally blocked out the reason why, all I could say, was that was the way it had to be done. It was about twenty minutes after he called, that I remembered, this happened once before, several years ago. It is one of my brains favourite tricks, I know all the rules, all they things that have to be done a certain way, but why? Well, don’t ask me, I don’t have the first idea, just the knowledge. At that time, just like this, we have been forced into rearranging the appointment, because, without the ambulance and their stairclimber, we can’t get there.

My chest consultant asked when I thought I should go back to see them. I said six months, but he wanted to see me in just four. There was an issue with the first booking, again with the transport, if you aren’t there first thing, you don’t get home for hours, often late into the evening, as it wasn’t a morning appointment, we had to change it. It was moved by two weeks, which on its own, is not that bad really. Now after speaking to the booking clerks, Adam has managed to book it and the transport, for the 4th of April. We were lucky, getting an appointment that close, it was only because there had been a cancellation. He is sorting out the other appointment this morning, but I just had a phone call from the ambulance service, cancelling the 4th of April transport and telling me, there is no space until after the 7th. Unbelievably, the “Hospital transport service”, as they like to call themselves, are now running the NHS, for those of us who are disabled. Adam is now going to have to go back to square one, and rebook everything. No matter what dates he manages to arrange, it’s beginning to look as though it will be six months between my appointments, not four.

This of course also throws up other issues, ones that must cost the NHS a fortune each year. How many appointments are cancelled each year, due to this problem, meaning doctors time being wasted and waiting lists just getting longer and longer? They spend money every day paying for staff to sit and make appointments and to manage individual consultants lists. No matter how proficient they are, if the transport service forces appointments to be cancelled, there will be gaps, points when wages are paid for doctors and nurses to be ready to treat patients, that is not being used. Every time an appointment is shuffled, it just makes those list artificially appear longer. Targets will be missed and all due to transport, not the medical service.

I find the whole thing unbelievable. If anyone wanted proof, that they system isn’t working, well here it is. What happens, if you consultant wants you to return in a week, or two weeks? What if it was essential for that appointment to be then, due to treatment plans? Would they just leave you at home to die, as without a doubt, this sort of service if it’s allowed to continue, will result in just that. It could also result in patients who could easily be treated as an outpatient, having to take up a hospital bed, something that is in short supply these days. Bed blocking, is constantly blamed on the care service not being up to the job. I bet if it were possible to investigate, there are people who are in this exact position right now, sitting in a bed, twiddling their thumbs. I said the other day, that the housebound and severely disabled receive a second class service, well, I’m changing that, we get a third or fourth class service if that.

I asked Adam to take over the arranging of hospital appointments and the transport, not only because, I find the phone hard to deal with, but I also found the system frustrating, even when it worked in their version of perfect. Just hearing all of this second hand is already stressing me, so I feel sorry for Adam. I feel even sorrier for other carers as Adam works for the NHS, in the very hospital where I go for the bulk of my appointments. He knows the system, not only the system but all the people who work in it, so it has to be easier for him than it is for those other carers out there. All he has to do is walk down the corridor to the very clinic and have a chat with the receptionist. He can, in fact, check the computer himself, so he knows exactly how the lists look and he can stand there looking at it, while he talks to the transport service. Everyone else, can only book an appointment, cross their fingers and try and book the transport. How long is it going to take, for the NHS to realise that their system is not suitable for purpose?

I was on the verge of publishing this when the phone rang. It was Adam, he just wanted to let me know that it is all sorted, well for the chest clinic anyway. We have both appointment and transport now booked for the 25th of April. As for the breast screening clinic, well the girl on the desk couldn’t give him a date over the phone, and will be posting it out to us.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 10/03/2014 – Lost and in pain

I’m not here today. I don’t know where I am but I just know that I don’t feel connected to myself, somehow lost. I know in the last few months this has happened several times, but I will never get used to it, I guess it is as close to one of my ultimate fears as I ever want to get, my mind so taken over by drugs that I can’t find myself. I don’t blame the drugs for this because if it were them, well I…….

 

 

 

 

 

Playing ostrich?

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It doesn’t matter what it is, until we admit we have a problem, all too often, that problem doesn’t exist. Sound familiar? It’s OK, all of us do it. Most of the time, it really doesn’t matter, because, in an odd way, we’re right. Few of us actually go through life-threatening situations, we don’t know what it feels like to be in the real danger of dying, either from our own bodies or from someone else’s. All we have is our imagination and our own life experiences to base anything on. Both of those vary widely from person to person. Some will panic, over what others will see as tiny or irrelevant, while others trudge on, even when everyone else, can see the knife sticking out of their back, they go on as though nothing is happening. In most cases, those huge problems are only in our mind, not they symptom, or issue we’re experiencing, that’s real enough, it’s the belief that its a life ending problem, that’s what we often create ourselves. It’s all too easy to take something tiny and turn it into something much more major, not because we are hypochondriacs or the ultimate perfectionist, who can’t deal with the smudge on the carpet, but simply because we are human. I don’t claim to understand the full in-depth psychology behind it, I’m not a doctor, but part of it goes way back to our beginnings and has something to do with a miss guided use of the flight or fight instinct. Taking something tiny and blowing it out of proportion, isn’t really dangerous to anyone. Annoying to those around us, but not dangerous, but what when we do it the other way around. When we dismiss, tell ourselves that it’s nothing, not important at all, when it actually, might be.

I do it, and I admitted it yesterday right at the end of my post. I honestly, thought I was having a stroke and what did I do, nothing. I don’t even remember worrying, once I was through those first few minutes. All I know is that I did what I did on Sunday night, I sat there, mentally checking what was right and what was wrong, then created some kind of embedded function that throughout the answer, “I’m OK”. I may have been ill the majority of my life, and without a doubt, know my body better than anyone else on the planet, but I don’t know what it feels like to be dying. Yet still, I consider myself qualified to decide that I didn’t need medical assistance. To some, that decision would equate to madness, to others, probably those who also live with chronic illness, it will equate as a logically acquired assumption. Clearly, I have proved that I was right, as I’m still writing, it wasn’t a stroke. I have searched for it, but I can’t find a post which I think I wrote back at the end of 2013. I remember writing it for two reasons, firstly Adam couldn’t believe that I did nothing, not even call him, and also because a couple of other people had gone through the exact same thing. Briefly, it is a case of being lain in bed, convinced in a way that I can’t explain, that I wasn’t going to wake up again, ever. It has happened several times and the oddest thing about it, is the total calm, a peace that I’ve never felt any other time. It’s not a case of wanting to die, it a feeling of not being able to avoid it. There’s no pain, nothing to explain it. I mention it now, as it’s a perfect example of a couple of things. The way our brains creates things and the total futility of calling a doctor. What would they do apart from laugh at you, as all you can say is, “I’m about to die”. If you have been as ill as I have, for as many years as I have, and had to fight for years, to get a diagnosis that explained everything that is happening to you, you wouldn’t call the doctor either.

Don’t get me wrong, I have had some really good and some really helpful doctors, I have also met up with some totally horrid and inhuman, mocking monsters. Unfortunately, they are the ones who jump into your brain when you are caught in those few seconds, where you know you have to make a choice, you either scream for help, or you shut up, wait and see, and just hope. It may be wrong to let a few bad apples, make you honestly put what you believe could be your life at risk, but that is the effect of those monsters. I know I am not alone in worrying about turning up in an emergency room, just to be patronised and sent home feeling really stupid, but there is another problem on top of that one, and it’s bigger. As my health deteriorates, I don’t want to be known for shouting “wolf”. When I genuinely need help, I want them to willingly give it, without the attitude of “Oh! it’s her again”, possibly delaying the help I need. If I were to call for help every time something truly happened, that on the surface appeared like an emergency, I would by now be banned from calling them. The relationship that you have with the medical profession when you live as I do is both delicate and important. If that isn’t enough, I have other things to consider on top.

I recently wrote a post explaining why weekends are a huge consideration as to if you call for assistance or not, but the availability of care that the weekends produce is also to some extent, there at night time as well. Clearly the emergency care is there regardless time or day of the week, but if it isn’t a total emergency, if you can wait until the morning, then it’s clearly better to wait. Stay at home, you will spend the night in your own bed, which without the slightest doubt, is far more comfortable, than a hospital trolly, as the chance of a transfer to a ward at night, is highly unlikely and the chance of there being transport to take you home again, even more unlikely. Because I can’t get up and down the stairs to our flat, I need either to be carried or taken on a stairclimber, in some cases, this might not be a problem, but in Glasgow it is. If I had got it wrong, and I was fine, I would have to wait, if I’m lucky, not in one of their hard wheelchairs, for the morning. Getting home would be down to the patient transport system, would collect me at some point during the day in between then running people back and forwards for consultant appointments. Who knows when I would eventually get home again.

It doesn’t matter how serious my gut instincts says something is, I have to stop, I have to think it through and decided about all of this, as part of my equation, as to do I call for help or not. Clearly, my health comes first, if I went through my major equations and came up with, I am having a stroke or a heart attack, like anyone else would get Adam to pick up the phone and make that call. If I had the slightest doubt, add in everything above, and my equation totally changes and doubt is inclined to win. I will go over and over everything I am feeling, I will work out for myself if I can stay here or not, but I have to admit, any time of day or night, all of this does have a bearing. It was a large part of the driving force that took me off my feet and into my wheelchair. The whole idea of having an accident is one I have lived with for years. But when the odds rose to the level, where an accident being more likely than not, it was the hospital bit that worried me far more, than the damage done to me. For me, that has now become my personal “Problem level”, not to be crossed. If something doesn’t include “hospital” in the answer, then it’s not a problem at all. Am I being an ostrich, I don’t think so because, I can, actually give a rational argument as to why I have reached my conclusion. As long as I assess my health first, then use the rest of my argument to grade it, well it’s got me this far.

There is, of course, one other argument, that is hidden in here. Not just am I right or wrong, but in some ways a bigger one, is it right or wrong, that anyone should have to even have to bring the quality of the health care system, into their reasoning, when it comes to their health.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 24/11/2013 – Future shut down

I guess able-bodied or not we all have fears and strange things that fill our minds for no reason at all. Understandably for someone with a progressive illness, I dread for what is to me, the start of the worst…..

 

 

So far, so good

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I really didn’t think that I would even get the chance to start writing today, but finding myself up and awake at 5:30 am, thanks to Adams snoring exceptionally loudly, here I am. Actually, it’s not fair to put all the blame on him, yes, he woke me, but my stomach was telling me that I needed the loo, so even if I had managed to shut him up, I still wouldn’t have been able to sleep. In other ways as well I am glad for that earlier start, although I doubt I will be saying that by this afternoon. It is just touching 8 am and I have shoved through everything I would normally do for twitter and managed to get myself ready, so whenever that Ambulance arrives, all I need is my coat. It’s really odd sitting here knowing that I have my makeup on and my hair done, and not just my normal bed head design that prevails at this time of day. I feel like a different person. The entirety of this post is going to have to be done in bits, as I grab a few minutes in between the final touches required before we go, and of course, dependent on when that is, and when we get home again. I just hope it won’t be too bitty.

Something really odd happened last night, not with my health for once, but with my hands. I have been wearing rings on nearly all my fingers for most of my adult life, but the center finger on my right hand had four completely stuck on it. The last one to go on was actually a stupid thing for me to have done. I knew before I even shoved it onto my finger that it was going to be a tight fit, but I have for some reason got rather large knuckles, which means that the even if a ring is too tight to pass over, it will still spin around annoyingly once on. When I pushed it on to my hand, I did so as a way of keeping the other three still. At first it wasn’t a problem, I could pull it off with difficulty, but it did shift. Then I gained weight, need I say more. For at the least, it has been there for 9 years, but possibly longer. I don’t think I have lost weight suddenly, but for over a week I had noticed that my other rings were spinning more freely, so I grasped it and pulled, why it came off I don’t know, but off it is. I know this is a dipsy suggestion, but, could the fact I am using my wheelchair mean that my fingers are losing weight, if not the rest of me? It’s just an idea, but it’s the only one I can think of. I haven’t seen them for years, but I am sure they will be online somewhere, but I really need to buy some ring guards. They act like a spring fitting and let the ring pass over my knuckle then jump tight, holding the ring the right way around.

10 am. I really didn’t expect this, but we are home! Hospital visit complete and without the slightest hitch, if only it was always like that. We arrived at the hospital and were seen within 10 minutes of the ambulance drawing up. The doctor was really nice. She looked not just at the one I was worried about, but several others that are on my back and one that is on my chest. Apparently, I have Atypical moles. So I was right to be concerned about it, but in this case, there is absolutely nothing to worry about. She thinks that what has happened is that it had a slightly raised edge, and that edge was caught on something and been literally lifted it off my skin. Which made no sense to me at all, as I never wear a bra or tight clothes. I am also very careful about how I scratch my back, I have in the past caught moles with my nails. The more I think about it, the more I think I have the answer. Like most people, when I first lie down at night, I shift myself side to side until I am comfy. I am guessing, that that side to side shifting has been slowly lifting it off my back. Neither Adam or I thought about it at the time, but I have been left with the concern that it is actually going to continue separating itself. I have the horrific idea that one day I will wake to find it left on the bed behind me. She did say that because my moles are Atypical, as in they have raised sections and lumps in them, that we need to keep an eye on them for any changes. The fact that I don’t go outside isn’t enough, unfortunately, it is another one of those age things. At this second, we have nothing to worry about.

I couldn’t believe how smoothly the whole thing went, not even the stair-climber was as violent as usual. We were down and back up in a fraction of the usual time and I didn’t feel sick, not even for a few seconds. I know that it was only luck, but when we returned to the room where you wait for your transport home, the crew that brought us there, were still sitting chatting to the receptionist. They were waiting for a patient to come down from one of the wards. One quick call to their base and we were also on their list to take home. I had been so prepared for the fact that we would be sat there for hours, that I was sure that any second they were going to get a call back saying they couldn’t take us on the that run for some odd reason. But, no, we were off and home within minutes, if only it could always be like that. Fingers crossed, our next trip at in November will be just as smooth.

Over the last couple of weeks, I know that there have been quite a few people concerned about me due to this blog. Firstly, please don’t worry. What I have been writing in here is my inner self, my gut reactions if you like to life. I am very aware that lately my writing has been on the dark side, this doesn’t mean I am slipping into depression. When you have led a life like mine, there is a lot of darkness boxed all over the place. In normally work on them privately, but as this one is 100% about my health, it felt right to put it here. After all, the whole point of my blog is for the absolute truth of what chronic illness does to someone. It doesn’t matter what condition you have, the physical effects of them, is less than half the story. There are so many emotions that go with it, and I hope that they have all been shown. It is one of the reasons that I began to write this. You can search as much as you like, but nearly all information available about chronic illness is about the symptoms. Even then, the majority of them only tell you the basics of them. I wanted to know how they felt, what they did to your life, the true impact, not just their names. If you read back to the beginning, you will find spells like this showing up throughout. This one, though, I admit, is deeper and darker, but the phase I am moving into is the darkest I have ever had to face. Without a doubt, one of the dangers of chronic illness is depression. I have always believed that the fact I am so aware of the dangers, having had it in the past, that I should be able to control it. I don’t doubt there will be spells of it as things progress. The idea that I can go from where I am, to my final destination without it, would be ridiculous. I doubt being bedbound, will be a bed of roses.

I have made a point of always working through whatever my brain decides has to be faced. The worst thing I believe that anyone can do with anything, is box it and nail it down, that is the start of all danger zones. Yes, I do box things, we all have to, but I never put any nails in anything. My mind is free to demand that I deal with anything whenever it wants, just as it did the other day with that unwanted image. I also make space most days to deal with those thoughts I packed away for when I had time, I make that time. It’s a couple of years ago now, but I spent several months, just going back over my life and dealing with all the anger, I had inside towards people who had hurt me. I am not the sort of person who finds it possible to hate, no matter what anyone has done to me, I just can’t do it. I can, though, get angry and I had to get rid of it, that’s just what I did. I even forgave them all while I was at it. For me, it was the best thing I have ever done, that didn’t require either money or activity, and I would recommend it to everyone. Peace of mind is a precious thing. Dealing with all that ancient junk, also somehow how, helped me adjust into my new life of being unemployed and housebound.

I have gone from independent to being in need of total support, including life support. Without my wheelchair to get me around, well I would need 24/7 care and too close to bedbound for my liking. Without my nebulizer and my other inhalers, which all have to be used at least twice a day, I would find breath harder than anyone wants. Without being able to breath, well, we all know the answer to that. Mentally, it is actually a bigger adjustment than any of the physical stuff that goes with it. It is both easy and stupid to say, just get on with it, what is the big deal. My first time round using my wheelchair years ago to get around outside and in the office was a get on with it type of situation. I could deal with it with ease, as I saw it as no more than jumping in a taxi, to get me from one end of time to the other. I got in my wheelchair to get me from one end of the building to the other. But in small spaces, or at home, I was still able to walk as my problem then was fatigue. This time is different. This time, I don’t have legs any longer that can hold me up, they collapse, disappear and leave me stranded. This time, I am no longer a complete and normal person to look at, no matter who sees me now, they will see someone in a wheelchair. That is me, that is my new normal and that is a huge mental shift, and all of that has to be in here.

I know it is painful and heavy going for some to read, but I hope one day that someone like me will be able to read it and say, “I too can get through this”, that is the point. Right now, I believe that I am stepping through all of this quite well. I have thought several times, this it, I am there and I am myself again, then my brain disagrees and bang, I’m back walking through a forest, where every tree has thorns. It’s up to my brain, not me what you’ll find on these pages, every day is an unknown adventure when these pages are opened, not just for you, but for me as well.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 19/10/2013 – Finding hope

I have always had the misconception that life was actually meant to be simple, I don’t know who told me that or why I have managed to got it so wrong, but still to this day I have a small section of my mind that won’t let go of that wonderful but oh so wrong…..

A Hospital issue

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Last night, I climbed into bed, tired and more than ready to sleep. The TV schedule on a Saturday, are constantly shifting, so I was a little later than normal, that, though wasn’t the reason I was so tired. I have been finding the last few days draining. When my mind doesn’t want to shut up and only full on distraction seems to be of any aid at all, my strength fails quickly. Despite going to bed as always in the afternoon, I don’t think I actually slept. I just lay there, with stuff flying in every direction in my head. When I was once more back in the bedroom, ear plugs in place and the last scraps of light blocked out by my mask, I feared that the night was going to mirror my last visit there. When I had been getting ready for bed, almost as soon as I entered the bathroom and distraction vanished, I found myself thinking about the final paragraph of yesterday’s post. I kept wondering if I had written the final sentence correctly. Was it fine as it was, or should I have actually worded it slightly differently, so that it ended with a question mark? Once in bed, I was almost decided that I should change it, as it is a question, will I be able to just accept, or is that more a blind wish. There was a tear running down my cheek, this was the first time in my life, where I was seriously facing my own mortality.

It’s easy to say, we all have to die and to sit and think about when and how ours might happen. That isn’t facing your mortality, that is admitting it, facing it is a totally different thing. Just like that image that appeared, so did that tear, without permission or thought. One tear, not the flood that you might expect, just that one. Tears won’t change the fact, or make it less painful, but it’s not the type of pain that requires them to flow. It was odd, I wasn’t happy about what I saw, or the fact that it is approaching me, but there is an acceptance already there that I don’t actually remember either giving or working on. Tears would be appropriate if someone suddenly put a gun to your head, as that isn’t what any of us expect, our mortality would then be imminent, mine isn’t. It’s still out there in the future, what has changed, is that it is in sight, that’s the only, but a really big change, it now has a tangible reality. Just as I know that the time where I will need more care, someone to come in and assist me to do things that Adam can’t or I don’t want him to, is closing in on me, so is this. Yet, it still feels like yesterday, that I was working, going out every day and living like everyone else. Yesterday, I got angry because my day had run away with me, and there was suddenly not enough time left in the day, to do all I had planned. Adam said something along the lines of “who cares about the hours, it’s the years that worry me”. I corrected him by saying, “No, it’s the hours that matter, the years take care of themselves”. The truth in that statement felt and still feels starkly real, the years will take care of themselves, as I won’t be able to take care of them.

Today, though, is about getting both mentally and physically ready for tomorrow. No, that isn’t some kind of statement that links in with the above, this is something totally different. Once again, I’m on my way to the hospital, at least this time, I have the novelty of visiting a different department, I’m heading for Dermatology. A few weeks ago I wrote a post in which I explained that I had found a mole on my back that was doing something rather odd. I had emailed a photo to my doctor and he doesn’t think that it is anything to be worried about, but that due to the change, it should be checked anyway. So once more, I am heading for the hospital and today, I have to shower, wash my hair, tidy up any that needs removing and generally get ready for being out of my bed an hour early tomorrow, which is when the real fun begins.

To anyone else it wouldn’t be a problem, to someone like me, the whole thing is an unwanted nightmare. The last time I went, I was lucky, I don’t think the Ambulance crew thought so, but I was delighted when there was no stair-climber available. Trust me, being carried in a chair, by four people, up and down six flight of stairs, is a hundred times better than that monster of progress. If you don’t like fairground rides, you too would hate the stair-climber. It’s violent rise and fall action, that pushes your stomach into your mouth, is enough to upset most people, and part of the reason for my early rise. I am lucky enough to have a supply of anti-nausea pills, I have them as nausea is, unfortunately, another symptom of my PRMS, but the tablets do take a little while to work. With the Ambulance possibly here as early as 8 am, I need to be dressed, fed, drug program completed and even my hair and a little makeup added for vanity. Yes, I do have a little of it left. It is going to be a long and tiring day, and like all the rest it is going to take me a few days to get over it, and that is if it all goes to plan. Our unfortunate experience says that it is quite likely going to do anything but. We frequently find ourselves through the doctor side of the day with ease, it is getting transport home again that makes it such a drain. Hours of just waiting, sometimes right into the evening, isn’t uncommon.

I just remembered to plug in two E-cig batteries so they are also charged and ready to go, the first tick off my to-do list. The last two times I have been out, I totally forgot about them. I have had to charge two batteries, not because I think we are going to be out long enough to use one, but because I haven’t used them for ages, I didn’t want to take the chance that one might die. All the hospitals in Scotland, now have a policy that says that you can’t smoke a real cigarette, anywhere within their grounds, not that anyone really pays any attention. Adam is perfectly happy to wheel me outside to where all the other illegal smokers stand, but my nicotines levels dip quite quickly, a side effect of constant availability at home. Here, sat in my home, I don’t need to worry about charging and all that fuss. I use one that works off a USB, so it always works perfectly, but not much use anywhere else. If there is one place that a nicotine addict needs their drug, it is sat waiting and waiting in a hard hospital wheelchair, no, I’m not allowed to take my own. Rules, rules, and more rules. I’m waiting for the day to arrive, when you have to take a test, just to be allowed in their precious property. At least we have managed at last to get them to bring Adam with me in the Ambulance, they have at last accepted I need him with me.

On one level, I fully understand why patients go to see their doctors, rather than the doctor coming to see them, but on another, I don’t get it at all. To get me there and back again will take two, possibly four, if the stair-climber isn’t available again, with between two and four Ambulance crew, twice over at this end. The cost of that alone isn’t cheap. Clearly, if tests need to be done, then the patient must go to them. But a lot of the time, it is a chat without even an examination, which could be done over the phone, and if an examination is needed, then the doctor could actually go to them. The hospital is a ten-minute walk, or more likely, a two-minute drive from my flat. The doctor with a nurse for security, could in one car, be here and back in under 15 minutes. If a patient can get to the hospital, without transport having to be laid on, all is well, but surely it would cost less if they had a monthly list of those who are not able, to which the doctor could be the one making the visit. Especially, if the impact of going out, is detrimental to the patients health. I know that would take joined up thinking, but if it makes sense to me, how come it doesn’t make sense to them? Isn’t it time that the NHS used joined up thinking and started to use things like Skype, to cut down cost and improve patient satisfaction. Yes, you can smash tradition to bits and start again!

Clearly tomorrow I don’t have the slightest clue if I will or won’t have time to write a post. Don’t worry, I will be back on Tuesday if I don’t, just remember where I am and don’t worry about me, I am fine.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 18/10/2013 – Shifting the focus

There are always day when strange thoughts and feeling seem to take over, ill or not, I know that the human mind has a huge capacity to to invent and create things that should never have been there. I have always been that individual…..