So now the time has arrived by which I must connect to the dialysis machine each night.
Following on from my recent operation to insert the catheter into my left side abdomen, last week I attended a two day residential course in Kew to learn the intricacies of PD dialysis. There, with two other patients (both ten years older than me) we learnt about the non-touch technique and the importance of hand hygiene when handling the equipment. And, boy, is there a lot of equipment. I'd already received my first delivery of fluid bags, extension lines, soaps and paper towels from Baxter, who are the distributors of the product. Here in Kew I learnt how to set it all up, and transfer two bags of five litre fluids through my body.
Thinking about it, it is the routine that is the most difficult for me. I hate routine. I hate repetition. One of the things that has hit me suddenly is that for the unforeseeable future, I will have the same routine to following, early evening, before bed and when I wake up each day. I'm less bothered by being connected for 8 hours at a time, although that can also be bothersome when the annoying alarm sounds in the middle of the night. It is the routine - and the preparation that accompanies it - that I hate.
What's more, it seems that everyone around me has started flapping, sending me texts and letters. Me, in the middle of my own storm and quite calm, albeit annoyed. Everyone else is in panic. And to explain the intricacies of my new experience is now boring.
Which brings me on to Cambridge Analytica. That is certainly not boring. Nor is the story emerging in the news that Vote Leave might have broken rules during the Referendum in funding a group called BeLeave with nearly £700,000. That would be cheating and would be illegal. What's more, with the result of the Referendum so close, they would only have had to sway the minds of about 634,000 people to change the result. This is starting to look like the result of the 2016 Referendum is unsafe. I have written to my MP asking him to clarify from Mrs May whether if this is proven to be the case, she will look to suspend Article 50 immediately. For all the talk of the "will of the people" it seems the said will is no longer a done deal.
So now I return to my new life of fluid change, staring at the boxes piled high in my flat, thinking of when I will start my bedtime procedure to hook up to my new machine. It's funny, as a tax payer, I am certainly getting my money's worth from the NHS. In fact it has really made me realise what a wonderful organisation it is, that I can be looked after with such efficiency and at such cost from the public purse. Yes, there needs to be more investment in the NHS, but the principles laid down by Bevan all that time ago are still sound. I just hope that if we do fall out of the EU it will remain in public hands, with universal coverage. To me that is the essence of Britishness, a decency that looks after our own. Also one that respects fair elections and deals appropriately with cheats.
Following on from my recent operation to insert the catheter into my left side abdomen, last week I attended a two day residential course in Kew to learn the intricacies of PD dialysis. There, with two other patients (both ten years older than me) we learnt about the non-touch technique and the importance of hand hygiene when handling the equipment. And, boy, is there a lot of equipment. I'd already received my first delivery of fluid bags, extension lines, soaps and paper towels from Baxter, who are the distributors of the product. Here in Kew I learnt how to set it all up, and transfer two bags of five litre fluids through my body.
Thinking about it, it is the routine that is the most difficult for me. I hate routine. I hate repetition. One of the things that has hit me suddenly is that for the unforeseeable future, I will have the same routine to following, early evening, before bed and when I wake up each day. I'm less bothered by being connected for 8 hours at a time, although that can also be bothersome when the annoying alarm sounds in the middle of the night. It is the routine - and the preparation that accompanies it - that I hate.
What's more, it seems that everyone around me has started flapping, sending me texts and letters. Me, in the middle of my own storm and quite calm, albeit annoyed. Everyone else is in panic. And to explain the intricacies of my new experience is now boring.
Which brings me on to Cambridge Analytica. That is certainly not boring. Nor is the story emerging in the news that Vote Leave might have broken rules during the Referendum in funding a group called BeLeave with nearly £700,000. That would be cheating and would be illegal. What's more, with the result of the Referendum so close, they would only have had to sway the minds of about 634,000 people to change the result. This is starting to look like the result of the 2016 Referendum is unsafe. I have written to my MP asking him to clarify from Mrs May whether if this is proven to be the case, she will look to suspend Article 50 immediately. For all the talk of the "will of the people" it seems the said will is no longer a done deal.
So now I return to my new life of fluid change, staring at the boxes piled high in my flat, thinking of when I will start my bedtime procedure to hook up to my new machine. It's funny, as a tax payer, I am certainly getting my money's worth from the NHS. In fact it has really made me realise what a wonderful organisation it is, that I can be looked after with such efficiency and at such cost from the public purse. Yes, there needs to be more investment in the NHS, but the principles laid down by Bevan all that time ago are still sound. I just hope that if we do fall out of the EU it will remain in public hands, with universal coverage. To me that is the essence of Britishness, a decency that looks after our own. Also one that respects fair elections and deals appropriately with cheats.
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