Double Blood Test

Now, to change the subject, I’m afraid Dr Kenyon is going to be a mite puzzled shortly, if not a bit confused.  The whole thing is rather involved and to tell you about it without confusing you too much I shall need to explain several pertinent factors, so, are you sitting comfortably?

Firstly, you need to know that about four times a year the Sister at the Surgery presents me with a Yellow Card to take “whenever it is convenient” to Greenwich Hospital for a routine blood test for the Diabetic Clinic.  The last two cards being given to me just before Christmas (prior to my going to Bristol) and a few weeks ago at the end of May.  Right, hold that information in your head for further reference.  OK?

Secondly, we came to the bit about me being sent to Greenwich recently because of my bowel problem, and the resultant appointment for the barium enema Xray, which was for a couple of weeks back.

Thirdly, you need to know that I “blew” that appointment.  I didn’t forget it – I just forgot about the preparation the day before!!  I was supposed to take one sachet before 8 a.m. and the second one before 4 p.m. but spent a normal day, visiting Meg in the evening and sharing a fish and chip supper with her, returning home quite early at 11 p.m. and saying I’d call in the next day on my return from hospital.  However, when I got in from Meg’s that night my eyes alighted on the sachets on the mantelpiece and I groaned loud and long but, trying to be clever, I took the first one then – at 11 p.m. and the second one at 2 a.m. – the result being, of course, I spent the whole night being completely incapacitated ….an understatement, and finally fell asleep around about 7 a.m. – only to wake at 11:15 ….and my appointment was for 8.45 a.m.  So, I had to phone through to apologise and they gave me another appointment, for the 8th, and told me to go along a day or so before to pick up two more sachets – which I did – on Monday.

Now, have you got all that so far?

Right.  On Monday morning I went to Greenwich to collect the sachets and stopped in the foyer on the ground floor and casually groped in my shopping bag for the Xray appointment slip to show them – but my hand came out with a yellow card and I thought “Oh!  Blood.  I may as well get that done now I’m here” so trotted along to Pathology and waited in the queue.  When my turn came, the person doing it had the usual trouble of finding a vein and only succeeded after several attempts, remarking that it was like getting blood from a stone and asking if I always had this struggle.  (Keep this comment in mind – I shall refer to it later).

After the blood was done I left the hospital, crossed the road to the bus stop opposite and stood in the Bus Queue behind two middle aged ladies who were chatting, not really taking any notice of their conversation until one said “can’t manage it tomorrow, I’m having our little ‘un while our Bren goes for her Xray over the road”.

XRAY! I suddenly remembered the sole purpose of my visit was to pick up the sachets for my Xray so dashed back across the road and went to Xray Dept to collect.  “Phew” I thought, “That was a lucky break”.

The next day, Tuesday, I took the sachets as directed – with almost the same results as before except it wasn’t quite so violent; I was still up all night though – it was 4 a.m. before I was “safe”.  Bearing in mind the last episode I decided not to try to sleep, in case I wnt off deep again, so listened to the World Service until it switched over and then I  had a bath at 7.15 and had a good soak for an hour and a nice little nap to refresh me.

My appointment this time as a bit later, at 9.30, so I left home at 8.55 and arrived at Xray at 9.35 and was seen to almost immediately.  Firstly a Nurse tried to “wash” me out – but had no success – only succeeded in flooding her little room, so she left me for the Dr.  Then I went in for the Xray – not having seen any Dr. and they tried to give me the barium – but they had no success either.  There were two Nurses and one (I found out later) lady Dr.  They tried all ways; on my back, on my tommy; on both sides, but all they managed to do was flood the Xray couch and floor – as fast as they pumped it in – so it ran out.  This seemed stranfe to me because when I had it done last September everything went off without a hitch – no problem.  After several fruitless attempts they decided to give me a rest.  They were so sweet and kind, kept apologising to me for messing me about and hurting me, but I told them they weren’t, I would have yelped if they had hurt.  Anyway, the Dr said she would leave me to rest for half an hour and they all vanished (probably to have a coffee break and discuss awkward cuss).  I stayed on the Xray couch, snuggled up in the blanket they’d given me, and had a nice little nap.

When they returned they gently shook me awake and asked if I could stand them having another try.  I said I was all right.  I still couldn’t understand why they thought I shouldn’t be.

However, after two more fruitless attempts the Dr said she was going to have to abandon the whole thing and would write a note to Mr Henderson to say it was pointless sending me along again until he had done something about it!!

“Done something about it”???  Alarm bells ringing.  I’m too old for any more ops.

It was exactly 12.30 when I left the Xray Dept and, having been on a very restricted diet since the morning before I took myself round café area and had a jacket potato with cheese and a coffee, which went down very well indeed.

As I finished the last of my coffee I felt in my Shopping Bag for my purse to check on how much cash I had because  it was my intention to call in at the Co-op and get some cat food before I went home.  Horror of horrors – no purse!! I’d had it because I’d bought the food.  What had I done with it?  Trying not to panic I emptied out the contents of my Shopping bag onto the nearby chair and found it right at the bottom.  Sigh of relief.  Then I noticed a Yellow Card sticking out from the bottom lining and on pulling it out saw it was for a Blood test.  “Oh” Blood.  “I may as well get that done now I’m here” I thought, and promptly took myself off to Pathology.  After waiting my turn I eventually was called and my blood was taken, again after several tried to find it, which caused the woman to say “Do you usually have this bother”?  “Yes” I answered – then my mind froze because I suddenly remembered the similar words of the other lady only two days before.  How could I forget?

While I was still in a state of shock I heard her say “That’s all – you can go now” ….so I did, straight home on the bus, and it was only when I got home and the cats came bounding up to see what goodies I’d brought them that I remembered I was supposed to get some cat food in the Co-op – I had to turn around and go to the local shop and get a couple of tins to feed them, paying 6p more a tine than I would have done it I had got them at the Co-op.

Now, if you have been able to follow all those incidents in your mind’s eye, you may see what I meant at the beginning when I said Dr Kenyon is going to be a smite puzzled shortly.  She is going to have two separate reports on me dated 6th and 8th June.  If the readings are the same she may put it down to a clerical error – but if there is a variance then she will be puzzled indeed.

This is a typical Gracie story.  Very few people realise – if ant at all – that 90% of the time when these things happen nobody knows anything is untoward except me, but now and then something will happen, like this particular instance, when somebody is involved and I have to explain myself.  If only you knew how these lapses of mine sap my confidence.  I know there is nothing wrong physically with my brain.  (I had a brain scan last year and everything was normal), I also know it is not my memory because I don’t forget – I just fail to remember, which is not the same thing.  As soon as I hear the key word, or see something that reminds me, then I have instant recall – so it must be lack of concentration on my part.

I get so cross with myself about it and really intend to concentrate hard on everything, but I soon lapse back into my own little world of course, and don’t even know I have until I “fail to remember” something else.

What a twit I am to be sure.

Grace Russ - 9th June 1988