A different sort of journey

 and disparate community by shared location.

A trip by ambulance and the various encounters of A&E departments.

Something that I was initially introduced to 10 years and 6 or maybe 7 months ago. (well the original theme of this blog was encapsulating many journeys and adding in some specific anecdotes ).

Now thus far none of the trips I have made in this mode of transport have been for my personal medical needs. They have mostly been for my mothers but my father is trying to even that out recently .  The most recent with my father having prompted this post.

Like my bus journeys to work, things start before the actual journey.  In this case with a medical or health issue and the phone call. with various levels of panic and control, or lack thereof.

Point  one, in the call it is hard to remember that the call handler has to ask their questions in their order and at their speed. It is no good trying to second guess them, pre-empt them because you remember this from last time or indeed get overly frustrated if you had gone through 111 first then been transferred to 999 and have to start all over again. Less haste more speed with this, hard I know and I can slip up here.

Managing to take it steady and not get panic themed annoyed is something I have struggled with even whilst the inner logical medical drama watching me is trying to point out the error of that to my "I am not adulty enough for this daughter with am ill parent side".  

So after they assess condition, assess urgency, categorise and slot into the order of calls already being handled you get the estimated time for the ambulance or paramedics to arrive.  It does not matter how quickly they say they hope to be there it will never feel fast enough.  However, when it is going to be more than an hour then the wait feels interminable and also with the underlying dread, for both the other person concerned but mainly for your own loved one, that another more medically urgent call will gazump your position.

Or if you went via 111 you may be told to expect a follow up call from the Ambulance Service.

Waiting is awful, balancing the polite remember how busy they are, that they are coming, against the clock watching have they forgotten us, should I just maybe call again to see if the timing has changed, I should call "shy bairns get no sweets" is the local saying. Speak up or miss out, make the call and feel bad for talking that time or don't and feel bad for not actively "doing". They have a new method to try and ease you to the former and away from the latter. a TEXT message confirming you have called, they are sending someone and asking not to call 999 again unless there has been a change in the person's condition or to cancel it if needed. It sort of worked this last two times. Even getting the call from the Ambulance service at the time you were told you might expect the Ambulance with a change to the potential timings feels like being remembered, reassured.

This overlaps with the odd dance of getting ready to go to hospital, in case you need to because well you called an ambulance.  List of medication, phone numbers you might need, or I guess more recently your phone, is it fully charged (I am going to come back to that one later) do you have money for things in the hospital, do you take things in anticipation of a longer stay, or do you leave that in the hope it can be addressed by the medical professional coming. You would much rather be a bit stupid in making the call than there be something bad happening.

This process is better  with two as one can stay with the patient to be whilst the other prepares. In the past that was how it worked when my mother was the patient and my father and I were the worry filled trying to be organised people. Back in the days when my dad drove (as you can tell from the original purpose of this blog I don't drive, can't drive) and off I would go, in with mam and he would follow in the car. All focus on getting there, getting treatment.  Quite often being rushed through as an emergency.

Then the hard drive home with just two of us, if she had to stay in. More recently as my dad's health deteriorated and he could no longer drive, he has had to wait at home and as we found out during covid when neither of us could go with her, waiting is harder at home than when you are with the person.

Once there , the same questions, over and over, trying not to answer for my parent and let them answer as that is part of the assessment process, how they are able to respond. To balance out where I need to answer as they can't always do so as we go through the various levels of triage depending on those original assessments added to by the paramedics then reviewed and refined at the hospital.

Or, a quick hand over and find a space in the waiting room, waiting for a name to be called.  Gradually, whilst waiting, surreptitiously taking in the others waiting, counting, gauging. The shudder of  how long when the tannoy says it is a 5.5 hour  wait, shudder even more as those already waiting chuckle painfully at the optimism of that timescale. Conversations start in bits and pieces, fits and starts somewhat like bus conversations, the weather the wait, the draft of cold air each time the doors to the outside open and close, the addition to those waiting as chilling as the drop in temperature they bring in with them. Or perhaps comparisons in facilities and waiting times at different hospitals. Sometimes speculation over the patient waiting with a police escort, victim or perpetrator..ah  handcuffs, the latter then in this instance. Passing on hard gleaned information, just how the vending machine works differently for card or cash, where the toilets are, which button to push to open the various doors, 

There was a set of signs that made me give a weary smile. On the doors it said push the Big Green Button to open doors.  On the wall over the Big Green button was a sign with an arrow that said This is the Big Green Button!

Called for a triage, an assessment, a blood test and x-ray, out and back, sometimes to the same seat sometimes not. Each time seeing who is still waiting, who has gone.  

There is, as with the bus a strange warping of time here, well if you are not in an area with the TV on keeping pace with the time. A strange fugue of stillness so that hours blur.

Now in the winter and if you as nicely you can get a heated blanket for the patient to deal with the cold. Or perhaps off set the shock of the vending machine prices after you negotiate how to use them. 

There is also the worry of if we had to go to the toilet will that be the point we get called, if we are not there will they think we left, will we then be waiting in this strange limbo, uncalled forever?

So you leave your name, well the name you expect to be called, with someone and off you go. Check in with them when you come back and settle down to waiting once more.

Now, I had my phone, but it was on very low and I had not thought to grab my charger. I was only using it to text updates to my BFF who was then calling my mother. I watched the charge fade away bit by bit as the night wore on. In this instance after being seen by the doctor and with a few more checks 4 in the morning he was discharged. The hospital transport (of which I have also recently become more familiar) stops running a 1 a.m. so at 4 it was up to us to figure out getting home. My BFF and her husband came to get us, quite a journey for them.

I returned home with a mental list, of just in case which included taking my charger even if the phone was fully charged. (My phone is apparently not one as delighted in my the hospital staff of other patients so I could not borrow one) Notes about the times various transport options ran or where available, those sorts of things. A book to pass the time even.

Within days I needed the list, and we were back again, less waiting time in the waiting area, more time in the little room, then well an overnight in the hospital for my Dad. And whilst that decision was taken before the 1a.m cut off point for the patient transport the operative word there is patient, and that was not me. Another friend living closer to the hospital was kind enough to get me home.

And on the other side of things, well once my father was in hospital, overnight stays that were not anticipated, there was getting him home. Waiting for calls that he had set off.

I much prefer the normal bus journey, indeed I do.

Lending my body to medical science.

 For the third time, and each time has required a journey. I can't actually recall how long ago the first time was, it might have been 2010 or 11. I received an invitation  through the post. A new medical endeavour supported by the NHS to obtain medical data and samples to be a resource for  scientist around the world. It would hold the biological information of hundreds of thousands of volunteers securely but available anonymised  to those showing they were doing ethical research. Would I participate. Obviously I said yes and off I went on the bus to a city not too far away, just the one bus ride and duly took various tests, hearing and memory and cognitive stuff, blood and blood pressure weight and circulation, it didn't take long at all.

That was followed up by the occasional questionnaire via e-mail on all sorts of things, sleeping habits, or eating and occasionally ones where once I answered the first question it ruled me out answering any more. Its not worth asking me questions about smoking or alcohol consumption when I have never done either of those things.

Time passed and newsletters arrive noting 500,000 had participated, lots of medical research was benefiting and they had a plan for even more information to be collected. This time they were planning on scans.  2MRI scans, 1 DXA scan, neck artery ultrasound, the first sites were going to be quite a distance from me and not practical to attend and anyway it was by invitation only.

Then seven years ago the invite came, expecting a too distant scanning centre I was all ready to decline but no there was a centre near me so I said yes.

Oddly I recall it being a sunny dry day, as had been the weather for the first one. I had a plan, take a bus to the next town over, catch the metro to the central train station and from there call for the prearranged taxi.

Hmm yes well in this instance I can group myself in with mice and men as all did not go to plan. Bus trip number one did, the metro did not , there was an issue on the line with nothing to say when that would be resolved. Plan B get a bus to the city over the river from my destination, one stop on the metro then taxi. Plan B had its own issues, not as familiar with bus routes as I might be the bus I set off on had a somewhat roaming route and took extra long so I arrived late and was not able to do one of the scans.

Shortly after the Covid restrictions were lifted another invite arrived would I go and repeat the scans. Regretfully at that time I could not take up the offer.

This year it was made again, and I could fit it in. New plan, a don't be late plan. Take the express bus to the city this side of the river to my destination city then one metro stop to the train station. Another sunny dry morning, which considering all the rain we have been having this month was a blessing of which I was suspicious so a rain mac travelled with me. 

Out the door the original route down the steps across the road at my favourite lights past the empty
space that was once my childhood school and the retail park that was once my 6th form college and local library to the bus stop. With doors once more not working and I and the bus were on time.

Spotted the son of a friend (and former boss) getting on the same bus but he didn't recognise me (I did not have a Bob the Builder to hand, and that's a different story) and unusually for me I sat on the back right seat at the top of the bus. It came equipped with a USB post, had I brought a device and the relevant lead, indeed I had let charging commence ah or not this port on this seat was not feeling cooperative.

Ah well new rout, enjoy the journey, first stop a local out of town retail park, mental note that was fast so if I want to come here this is the bus to get.

After that I was not taking much detailed notice just admiring the view.

I got to my departure point so early I could have stayed on to the final stop one city over then walked to the pick up point. But as that had not been the plan I had to get off and do the metro thing. Still arrived at the station super early. So I stopped for a bit and watched the trains, and the transport police and sniffer dog, he did come to sniff a hello but happily for me and perhaps disappointingly for him I had nothing of interest. There were gaggles of children, a school trip perhaps and even orange robed monks.

At what felt like a reasonable time I found somewhere a bit quiet and made the call. It feels a bit like being in a spy movie. Call the number provided, give them the code, then the password and finally my name and they will send a taxi.

The taxi takes me to a little industrial site down by the river. From outside it is indistinguishable from other units with little businesses, but once inside, actually it is very Bond villains lair. Welcoming people in uniforms, they were expecting me Ha! The registration tests then change into our own outfits for the day, trousers and a wrap around  top. 

The number on my locker made me laugh, it fed into my mental musings as did a large map of the world on one wall noting next to it the number of participants and the number of medical papers produced to date (6,000). Four and a half hours later (an hour less than anticipated) and all done time to go home. 

Taxi back to the train station, shared this time with another body loaner, he had come much further than me and by train all the way. He had a very late return ticket and plans for an evening out in the city first. I planned to walk to the bus station to enjoy the pretty weather, a look at a local landmark and just one mode of transport home.

I had intended to get the express bus home however, by the time I got to the stop it was not due for over twenty mins, another bus which would at its halfway point be following my old journey home from work (before that changed) would arrive sooner but take longer. Hmm decisions, well thinks I a bum on a bus seat is better than a wait for one that might not arrive as intended.  Additionally the extra wait would eat into the shorter time and I can not deny there was a teeny bit of nostalgia at the thought of doing that journey again and seeing what was the same what different. 

Bus arrives and is surprisingly a single, on I get oh look UBS port, its lit up ahah charging...pleased.

Get my book out (yea had one of those as well) and read till we get to the stop which in days past would have been where I got on to go home. Put book away with the intent of seeing what was what with the world passing the windows. 

I had not accounted for the conditioned response, it may have been years due firstly Covid then the office closing and our relocating, since I made this trip but my body remembers and like a dog to a bell as the bus pulls away conditioning turns on. I go to sleep, oh the delights of a bus nap, and  I nap / dose all the way home just like old times, so what has or hasn't changed buildings or shops along the route I don't know, the delights of a successful bus nap were the only things getting a revisit.

Back at my starting point bus stop, the pleasant weather has held, the rain coat has stayed in the bag the whole way, just the walk home and my adventure is done.

In case you were wondering, I don't get to see the scans or any specific results from any research my data contributes to.

 

Back and there Again

 yes you are right that's not the title of  Bilbo Baggins book, but it is an accurate description of todays bus interactions.

You see I went there by car, came back home by bus then had to go there again on the bus and back by car.

Sound convoluted, oh it felt that way. The car was going in for a service (not my car) and the garage had moved, so I was navigator there and bus facilitator back.

on the little purple bus with its leatherette seats.

My Dad was less than impressed with those as he slipped and slid on them around the corners, I was amused. He wondered how I ever managed to sleep on the bus, I wondered how I was managing to stay awake , on a bus.

Walk with the Trolly

 on my way home from work on Thursday on a nice sunny day I was walking up the incline pulling my little red trolly behind me.

Approaching from the opposite direction was a woman pushing a black trolly.

As we got closer we made eye contact and smiled in trolly sisterhood.

As we met and a half step past we each without any prompting but in perfect synchronisation stopped half turned to each other and had a happy little conversation about the merits of the trolly. 

Her black trolly was new and sans the annoying Velcro of her old one, and could be pushed as well as pulled so she was trying out pushing.

I noted I had added buttons and a loop to mine to stop the flap flapping in the way. 

We both grinned, said gotta love a trolly, wished each other a nice day and parted ways.

Made me smile all the way home, whilst not quite on a level with the bus friends of old it was nice to connect with someone on my work journey.

I got a letter

 from someone I used to work with. From someone who used to travel in on the bus but from the opposite direction. He would arrive on the bus going in the direction I would get to go home and visa versa.

Some mornings we would arrive at a similar time and share the escalator ride and last little bit of a walk into work and the lift up to our floor.

He tells me he misses those travel related chats, misses the blog, I did not realise he read it! But then not everyone leaves comments even if they visit on purpose and not due to a search engine accident.

I had thought there might have been the occasional bus trip into the new  official office, but then it has been undergoing refurbishment and no one has been allowed in during that.

So still most of my travel simply consists of walking down the stairs and quite often my mug is telling the truth.

The rest of time it is the walk down to and past the bus station to the more local secondary office accompanied by my red trolly.  I have been prompted by that letter to look anew at this somewhat neglected blog and think of all those other people who have featured here. Starting with Peter and Paul and the Blind Man, The purple Coated ladies, the Shop Girls and in particular the shoe lady. The Author,The commuting baby with her bunny that I saw no more once day care became nursery school. Matilda / Madeline her dad and then little brother. My workmate John, with his magic bus calling cigarettes, sadly no longer with us..  All moments shared, and past and gone.  

Coming down the stairs is so much easier and convenient, but its not making memories and certainly not  providing much fodder for this blog.

Travels with my Trolly

 My little red trolly to be exact. And a journey that is both old and new. 

Since last I posted my base office has changed and I am now officially based back at the office I left in 2007.

So today was the first day back there, a single bus journey (once I have walked to the bus stop of course, no change there) on what I used to call the little bus. Ah what a delight it would have been if it still ran on the old route and served the stop just outside my door. 

Here is my trolly squeezed in on the bus.

And the view of the bus station from the bus, we got to get on and have a nice sit before the journey started (exactly on time I should point out).

It was dark on the journey in and some of the pretty views on the way were not visible, it was nicely light by the time I arrived at the destination bus station.

And with a little time to explore and see all the changes that have occurred since last I visited this city.

There are little scooters...

Buildings I was familiar with have gone, others have appeared, some streets are pedestrianised.

It was both interesting and disorientating.

The same can be said of being back in the office, it was to repeat the title of a previous post, the same yet different.

Taking a slightly different route back to the bus station I noticed that in some of the buildings that were unchanged the occupancy had. 

Back at the Bus Station (or more properly interchange) 

Bum perches rather than seats, and the wind blows through with glee. 

And still with the red trolly and off home in daylight so I could see the sea, quite choppy and grey but still nice to see.

and past a light house (hard to see)

and a famous sculpture, equally hard to see here.

And then more road, and yes the intense desire for a nap..and home in the twilight.

Today I remembered

 a lead so I could take advantage of the charge points on the bus.

Here I am all plugged in. I was in a contemplative mood this sunny morning as I made the journey to work. I was looking back on those early days back in 2007, days the bus was full of people off to work and at the later parts of the journey on their way to school  Today there were few on the bus, even as I reached my destination and only I alighted rather than the days of squeezed on like sardines.

There was a sense of sadness tinging those recollections.