Hospice visit

We had an appointment today at the local Hospice, Mary Ann Evans Hospice, named after the author who went under the pseudonym of George Eliot [1819-1880]. I was mistaken as being my partner’s Dad by the receptionist, which really made me feel good in already uncomfortable surroundings. Although the Hospice itself was clean and tidy and the people noisy and jovial the thought of sick people there waiting to die made me restless. My groundings for this were totally unfounded as we were later informed that there were no ‘beds’ as such in the hospice and it was an ‘open in the morning, shut in the afternoon’ establishment. I felt more at ease once I discovered this.

The Macmillan Doctor, who appeared young enough to be my grand daughter let alone a daughter, had a wonderful bedside manner and was very helpful in examining me and prescribing alternatives to the primary pain killer medication I have been taking.

I am now, after more confusion with the GP surgery over the prescription request, on OxyContin [prolonged release] and OxyNorm [quick release] instead of the morphine based medication. The thinking behind this is that I will receive pain relief on a much more effective basis and I should experience no pain at all from my lower back and ribs [RH front]. The other alternative to this, should it not work, is to have nerved block administered by a procedure involving needles [I am surmising most of the needle bit as I have not yet opted for or been informed of its true nature.]

My wife has once again run around like a fly with an arse the colour of the sky all day getting my medication sorted.

*Mary Ann Evans Hospice, - stands in the grounds of the George Eliot hospital.