Claire Update

Apologies to everyone for my blog neglect.  I have my reasons but I will explain them a bit later.  First this morning, I want to say thanks to Phil for writing and posting a blog for every day whilst we were on the cruise.  It wasn’t easy; he had to re-size every single photograph and the very expensive Wi-Fi connection on The Atlantica was pants.  I didn’t check my emails even once on the boat or whilst in port which is very unusual for me.  Well, you got Phil’s views on our Costa-not-a-lotto experience so now I’m home; in the comfort of the flat I thought I’d give you mine.

As I said on previous blog postings, I didn’t have a high expectation of Costa Atlantica given the very bad internet reviews but I have to confess when I stepped onto the boat I was very pleasantly surprised.  Our dealings with customer service when trying to get our all-inclusive sorted wasn’t very professional but this was soon forgotten when we got to our cabin. 

We had a queen sized bed with my very favourite linen and a large balcony right at the back of the boat.  We had some lovely meals, not of the Queen Mary quality nor 5 star but still nice nosh nonetheless.  I think on our trip there were more Brits sailing than usual bit I for one liked the European mix of different nationalities. I had taken my gym kit but didn’t even make it once for a workout neither did I try the Jacuzzi or the pool which was probably down to the weather.  I would have liked to try the Spa but this was really expensive.   It’s difficult to say much about the entertainment because we didn’t really try it.  The programme looked interesting but obviously not interesting enough to make me want to see it.  Would I go on a Costa Cruise again?  Yes definitely, I wouldn’t pay mega bucks for the experience but at £199 a head, Phil got us a brilliant deal.

The journey home was a bit of a nightmare.  Because of sea-sickness (Phil not me) had a very disturbed night so we decided against going into Rome. Been there, done that and got the t-shirt.  Instead we got the bus into a town near to the airport.  We had a nice lunch but it wasn’t very warm and there wasn't much to do in town so we got a taxi back to the airport.  There wasn’t much either to do in Terminal 2 but somehow we whiled away 7 hours before getting on the plane at 9pm.  Customs at Gatwick was a nightmare and it was half two’ish by the time we climbed into bed.

We were up at 7.30am and on the road to Melton Mowbray to pick up mum and take her to Leicester Infirmary to see dad.  Poor mum was in bits when we got to the bungalow.  Phil was asking questions and she was so upset she could barely answer.   We had a cup of tea and Phil drove us to the hospital. Leicester Infirmary is a nightmare.  Parking is a real problem; Phil dropped me and mum off and went to the park the car.  The ward that dad was on was miles away, we asked 2 ambulance man and they very kindly found us a wheelchair and took us all the way to the ward.

George was sat in his chair with a tray of uneaten lunch in front of him.  He wasn’t very happy because the nurse that had been looking after him all week was off duty and on Saturday he hadn’t had his usual shower or shave.  He was confused and he didn’t know who I was when I first went in but he realised once Phil found his way to the ward.  The nursing staff couldn’t tell us anything and there were no doctors to ask.  We were told that we couldn’t see a doctor until Monday.  I wasn’t very impressed, I think MK hospital is awful but you should see Leicester Infirmary.   We got back to the bungalow around 5’ish and ate the lasagne that Phil’s mum had cooked.  We were all knackered and it was lights out for everyone by 10pm.

It was agreed that I would stay with mum and Phil would go back to Milton Keynes.  We’d literally dumped our cases so there was stuff to do like post and shopping etc., etc.  Me and mum got some supplies at Tesco’s; we reheated the leftover lasagne for lunch and then set off for the hospital.  I dropped mum off at the A&E entrance and parked the car.  It took 20 minutes to find her again in A&E but luckily she had nabbed herself a wheel chair.  It took almost an hour to get to the Odemes ward in the Victoria building.  It was probably the furthest building away from A&E.  We asked several people and when we got to the V building the main lift was out of order.  In the end I had to abandon the chair and poor Bet had to climb 2 staircases and walk the length of a long corridor to get to the ward.

We got there eventually only to find a not very happy George slumped in his chair.  I have to say he didn’t look very well.  They’d hooked him up to a saline drip because he wasn’t drinking enough and once again his lunch was totally untouched.  Bet tried to coax him into eating but this made him mad and the situation even worse.  Once again, he’d had no shave or shower which I found appalling.  George didn’t want to talk and I think he was quite glad when we finally left a couple of hours later.  I asked the Ward Sister to arrange a wheelchair and a porter and poor mum was sobbing silently as she was wheeled out of the ward.  Luckily the lift by the chapel was working so we got to our car parking entrance without mum having to walk too far.

I knew Bet was upset; she was very quiet on the way home.  Even though I had a tonne of stuff to sort at home I was glad I was staying the night.  We had a pot of tea and a sandwich for tea and a quiet night watching crap TV.  It was just unfortunate that the hospital phoned just before 9pm to say that George wasn’t producing any urine so they were moving him to a high dependency ward and would probably insert a catheter.  I knew Bet wouldn’t sleep for worry and I was right.  She was in a real dither on Sunday morning after a night of tossing and turning.

I am a morning person but only after a cup of tea.  I struggled to cope with mum asking me what I wanted for breakfast at quarter to six so I took my mug of tea back to bed so I could wake up properly.  We busied ourselves during the morning; Bet cooked homemade chicken noodle soup to take in a flask for George and I did the housework.  I was glad of something to do.  We had a ready meal for lunch and were en route to the hospital by midday.

Once again parking, finding a wheel chair and making to the Kingston ward was a complete NIGHTMARE.  It took ages to locate mum and get a wheelchair.  The main lift was out of order and so was the chapel lift so once again we had ditch the chair and take the stairs.  It was not surprising that Bet was knackered and stressed by the time we entered the new ward.  I asked a nurse if she could page a doctor before we made our way to George.  If I thought the Odemes ward was depressing, you should have seen the Kingston ward.  30 beds full of grey haired men all of whom looked well past their prime.  Think of ‘One Flew of the Cuckoo’s Nest’ and you will get the picture.  I know this sounds mean and I jest, perhaps because it was so upsetting to see.

Thankfully George looked much better than the day before.  He had been given a shave and a bed bath and was sat up looking quite perky in his day chair.  I saw from his charts that he’d eaten all of his breakfast, he hadn’t been sick and had managed 2 puddings for lunch.  He even managed a cup of the chicken noodle soup.  Phil’s mum was looking much happier and things were looking up until the junior doctor introduced himself and pulled the curtain around the bed.

I had really wanted to speak to the doctor by myself but it wasn’t to be.  George had been admitted because of confusion but also blood tests done by his GP showed that his liver and kidneys were not functioning properly.  The doctor said that the ultrasound that they’d done last Friday showed that George’s prostate was enlarged and bloods revealed a raised PSA level.  This didn’t worry me because I know this is common in older men but I was very concerned when I was told that the ultrasound revealed a mass on the left kidney.  He went on to explain that a full cat scan would be done (probably today) and only then would they know what they were treating.  Fortunately George didn’t really understand what the doctor was saying and neither did Bet.

Getting back to the car was another nightmare but I won’t bore you with the details.  Bet did ask me on the way home what a mass was but I was deliberately vague.  She was just happy that George was eating and drinking and I didn’t want to worry her, especially as I was leaving her home alone and driving home last night.  I got to the bungalow at 4 and left at 4.15pm.  Melton town was busy as was the M1 but I got home for quarter to 6 which was good.

I was knackered but so glad to be back home.   When I sent Phil home on Saturday I gave him a list of things to do.  He’d done everything including all of his ironing (his not mine) which surprised me.  I have so many things to do today but first I wanted to write my blog.  We were awake before 6am this morning and Phil set off for Melton an hour later.  He is having lunch with mum and then visiting his dad in hospital but is driving back later this afternoon.  Bless her; I phoned Phil’s mum just after Phil left to let her know what time Phil would be in Melton.  She wanted to know so she could get the dinner ready so they could get to the hospital by 12 pm.  

I told Bet, when she asked me, whether she should have the lunch ready for 9am and I said no, that she should not do anything with lunch until Phil arrived!  I think we are facing a journey in 2013 with the old folks and it’s not really one that I want to be on.  But such is life and you just have to get on with it.