… SORT-OF CONTINUED FROM DIARY No 20 …
I have been posting a diary supposedly about life in Britain during the coronavirus pandemic – focussing on the everyday amid the historic.
But it took a sidetrack when, instead of COVID-19, I developed some unknown kidney infection or damage or/and calcium imbalance and/or… well… something. No-one has yet found out what is wrong.
So this strand of the blog will now become a more general diary until I get bored with it or it meanders even more pointlessly than normal like a dildo lost in a jellyfish.
SUNDAY 14th JUNE
I had a bad, hacking cough: probably nothing to do with coronavirus.
I took a Tyrozet tablet.
Stephen O’Donnell in Glasgow reminded me of the type of cough linctus they had in 1888 with alcohol, cannabis, chloroform and morphia “skilfully combined with a number of other ingredients”.
Presumably, if that didn’t cure your cough, at least you would be unaware you had one.
MONDAY 15th JUNE
As is now normal, overnight I woke up about six or eight times – basically, at least once every hour – with my throat parched dry, desperate to drink water.
When I left hospital just over a fortnight ago, the Kidney Man told me he would treat me as an outpatient. Then, a week later, I got a letter saying it would be a face-to-face consultation at the local hospital.
Then, another week later, I got a text saying that, because of the COVID-19 virus, they were changing the face-to-face appointment to a telephone consultation. I joked to a couple of people that, as the NHS is a vast bureaucracy and all vast bureaucracies are a mess, they were bound to phone me up today and ask why I was not at the hospital.
Today, after over an hour waiting for the call, I phoned to check that all was OK.
The appointments people told me: “He’s not actually ringing absolutely everybody. Some patients he’s looking up on the system and, unless he feels he absolutely has to speak to them, what he’s doing is dictating a clinic letter which will go to your GP and you will get a copy as well… It’s a little bit of a grey area.”
About half an hour later, the Kidney Man phoned up because he had been expecting me to go in for a face-to-face consultation and wondered why I hadn’t turned up.
He told me that the Petscan I had about two weeks ago showed nothing abnormal and they still didn’t know what was wrong with my kidneys. So a blood test would be arranged and I definitely had to come in for that, even if I got a letter or text saying I should not.
After that, I went out (perfectly legally) to South London to see my Eternally Un-Named Friend. It was the first day when face masks HAD to be worn on public transport in England. So I wore a face mask on the mostly empty trains.
We walked along the River Thames from Greenwich to the O2 Millennium Dome – a long walk on what (I had forgotten to check) was a Very High Pollen day. I felt hot and sweaty and slightly light-headed and, for my feet, the walk became a plod.
Nothing to do with the pollen or the company. Something to do with the kidneys, I think.
The south (well, really east) bank of the Thames between Greenwich and the Dome has become mostly a post-industrial wasteland which is being flattened or is already flattened for high-rise flats, with some already built. My Eternally UnNamed Friend found some sort of Wordsworthian Romanticism in the open spaces and vistas. I thought it just looked more like a post-apocalyptic landscape.
At 11.15pm, back home in Borehamwood, as I was about to go to bed, sniffles, sneezes and an itchy right eye started to kick in. Over the last few years, I have tended to get hay fever fairly late at night and almost always after dark. What is that all about? What on earth are the flowers doing at 2315 at night?
TUESDAY 16th JUNE
The man whom I called ‘George’ in my hospital diaries died yesterday. I know this because my friend Lynn spotted his obituary in various newspapers today and – very impressively – guessed it was the person whose identity I had (I thought) disguised in my posts.
I then (perfectly legally) went to East London by train to see writer Ariane Sherine and her daughter in their back garden (well, back decking).
On the way there and back, I wore a face mask in the mostly empty train carriages. There were some other passengers. But we all seemed a bit half-hearted about it as we were all seated so far apart.
The government’s figure for total coronavirus deaths in the UK is now 41,969… Up 233 in the last 24 hours.
WEDNESDAY 17th JUNE
I went to Tesco’s in Borehamwood in the afternoon to buy a hat to protect my bald head from the sun. I lost my previous hat two days ago, somewhere by the post-apocalyptic River Thames.
I was hot and sweaty (despite having had a bath at lunchtime) and light-headed.
Ariane Sherine texted me:
“I’ve made a few jokes about you in my new book. I thought I should run them by you to check you’re OK with them.”
I replied: “I will be OK with them. You can say anything you like about me. I fancy being described as a dishevelled, shuffling, shambling mess. I would quite like to be described as a Dickensian character rotting slowly in my wrinkly skin as the dust gathers in my ears. I always think it is better to be laughed at rather than be laughed with… It is much more memorable. People forget jokes but remember OTT characters… Perhaps you could say something like: He was having a mid-life crisis at least 30 years too late, with fantasies of Baby Spice in a bikini rolling around in tiramisu.”
Alas, the book is a serious – though populist – non-fiction work and the reply I got was:
“We are at the proofreading stage, so I can’t add anything, but thank you for being such a good sport.”
My heart sank. I quite fancy being a badly-dressed Dickensian character. But I have never aspired to be a sport.
The government’s figure for total coronavirus deaths in the UK is now 42,153… Up 184 in the last 24 hours.
THURSDAY 18th JUNE
Last night, in bed, I had about an hour of feverish hot temperatured forehead and a hacking cough.
I think I may be turning into a paranoid hypochondriac. Or is that tautology? Who cares?
Meanwhile, admirable kick-ass vicar Maggy Whitehouse (I blogged about her in 2018) posted on her Facebook page:
Well that’s a first… I’m on the prayer line this morning and the first caller was a man who said he was in social isolation and lonely. He turned out to be calling from his bath… and was making somewhat too-enthusiastic noises during the prayers. He did say, “Thank you,” and that he was feeling a lot better now afterwards. Obviously, I have to report him to the boss… but I think I should have charged him a very large amount of money… and fortunately, I’m just trying not to giggle.
This seemed bizarre and unique to me but apparently not. Comments on Maggy’s post included:
– I had a fair few of them while on my Samaritans hotline 😉
– I used to work for a crisis helpline similar to the Samaritans and we had many a call along those lines…
– I used to be a Samaritans listener… we had similar calls…
– Sounds like the time I was a Samaritan on duty on Christmas Day. The tale was different – at the end he learnt it was seen through and it was good he had opened his ‘Christmas Present’ quickly!!
The government’s figure for total coronavirus deaths in the UK is now 42,288… Up 135 in the last 24 hours.
FRIDAY 19th JUNE
In 2012, Ian Fox published his excellent book How to Produce, Perform and Write an Edinburgh Fringe Comedy Show which was edited by fellow comedy performer Ashley Frieze.
Now, with the coronavirus pandemic causing chaos in comedy and entertainment generally and the Edinburgh Fringe effectively cancelled this year, the dynamic duo have published a follow-up:
How to Write, Perform and Produce a Cancelled Edinburgh Fringe Show: A complete guide on how to not write, perform and produce a show at the Edinburgh Fringe.
The book is a must-read. Handy tips include:
When and how to cancel things
How not to travel to Edinburgh
Writing a show that is cancelled
How not to get a review for a show that isn’t happening
And it’s all in aid of a good cause… The authors have suggested, for every copy purchased, a donation to the Trussell Trust which supports a nationwide network of food banks.
The book was free until yesterday and may be free from tomorrow in one form or another.
Ashley Frieze says: “The ongoing pricing seems to be some random mystery concocted by Amazon.”
Ian Fox: “Truthfully, we didn’t realise you couldn’t just do free Kindles anymore.”
The government’s figure for total coronavirus deaths in the UK is now 42,461… Up 173 in the last 24 hours.
SATURDAY 20th JUNE
As of today, I now have three letters – all confirming my Monday face-to-face appointment at the hospital.
It is to have another blood test, so it is unlikely it will get changed to a telephone call.
But never say never…
Never underestimate bureaucracy…
An article in The Guardian yesterday suggested that, at the height of the current coronavirus pandemic, deaths in the UK may have been 64% higher than reported because, part of the way through the current run of the pandemic, the government changed or, at least, the bureaucracy was able to re-define the type of deaths included in the statistics.
But the worst news of the week is that today I discovered – who knew? – that Tyrozets have been discontinued following a challenge from the UK’s Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) over whether the use of an antibiotic in throat lozenges is “clinically relevant”.
Who cares? They worked.
Does anybody know where I can get hold of some 1888 cough syrup “with alcohol, cannabis, chloroform and morphia skilfully combined with a number of other ingredients”?
… CONTINUED HERE …