Just as well Z is not a hypochondriac

 The doctors' receptionist phoned bright and early to say the results of my latest blood test had come in and a doctor could see me today.  Since lockdown, it has not been easy to see a doctor, so I was taken aback.  But in I toddled this afternoon and I was surprised again.  

I'm not anaemic now, though advised to carry on taking iron for the next few weeks.  But my •something I didn't recognise* markers are up, which indicate the ovaries, apparently.  It's most likely to be an ovarian cyst, she reckons, as they're not up all that much and it would be much higher for cancer.  So now I'll be referred for an ultrasound to have a look.  She doesn't think it's likely to be any problem with my digestive system.  So there we go.  I'm still down for the other tests, but we plod on.  

On the way out, I saw a friend in the waiting room, who wasn't surprised that I'd been seen so quickly.  She says they're fabulous at the practice and she's never had any problems.  I said, it was the speed that disconcerted me, I assumed it must be worrying news, but she said efficiency is typical.  But I must be costing the NHS a packet - other than vaccinations, I haven't troubled it for a decade - a couple of brief interviews with nurses is all - but I'm getting my entire money's worth at present.

We have had rain this week, not in great quantities, but some of the lawn is already showing green.  It's shaded by trees, so hadn't been so badly affected as the rest of the grass.  I have little doubt that it'll all green up in the next few weeks.  We visited Beth Chatto's garden on Tuesday.  She created this garden from the 1960s onwards and was a firm believer in planting the right plants for the conditions, not planting what you want and trying to make the soil and the climate fit them.  She was especially known for planting in poor, dry soil, which is what I have.  Back in the day, they never watered the driest part, but did do some other watering.  Now, nothing is watered.  There are basically four areas - the dry part, the area where a stream runs through, where a large pond was created, a - can't remember what it's called, but a 'difficult' area, next to where a farmer created a reservoir and dumped a whole lot of excavated earth and everything else, to which she added a huge amount of mushroom compost to try to make it workable before planting, and a woodland.  This was already a wood, but much of it blew down in the 'great storm' in 1987, which freed her to replant with what she wanted.

Of course, it's suffered in the drought, but it's interesting to see what's done well and what hasn't.  I've visited the garden before, but not for many years and, going on the A140 rather than the slow A12, it took less time to get there than we expected.  We plan to visit again in the spring.

Z's tether is fairly stretchy

 I'm finally at the stage of acknowledging that it's too much.  I've been gentle with myself for years, which helps at the time, but not in the long run, because difficult but necessary things get pushed back.  They do get done in the end, but I've always assumed I have time, which isn't a sensible assumption.

It's as much on Wink's behalf as my own.  Driving her to hospital today, I nearly missed coming off the main road, but remembered in time not to inconvenience anyone else, then took the wrong turning at the next roundabout, which was just into a service road so I did a rapid turn and no one but Wink and me knew.  Wink is more in touch with her feelings than I am (this is polite for emotional).  I clamp down.  In my experience over half my lifetime, letting go just means it's harder to come back to an even keel.  Facilis descensus averno, as Virgil put it in a different context - he meant, if you go wrong then it's a bugger to come back to the straight and narrow.  I just mean, keep emotionally stable.  If you let the pressure in and go below that stability, it's doubly hard to catch up again.  You may disagree and you're welcome to.

Anyway, it's been a good day overall, though not an easy one.  I finally typed up the last two lots, which are truly beautiful. If I hadn't overspent so violently last year, I'd be bidding myself.  I have taken photos of them, but they aren't good enough and I'll take more tomorrow.  At a pinch, I've done enough to start on the catalogue, but I've got more work tomorrow and also have a *potential but not likely* client in his 90s coming over to look at the china.  On Friday, I'm off to Wales.  I'd like to see friends on the way/way back and I've been horribly remiss in not getting in touch yet.  Wink had her breathing test - this is not diagnostic, just to show how much difficulty she has, to inform the later heart test.  I am pretty sure that I'm more concerned about her than about myself, though the procedures I'm due to have are rather more unpleasant.  Shit happens, darlings.  No point in worrying, unless it's about someone you care about rather a lot.

It's rained for the last couple of nights and been nowhere near so hot.  I just heard thunder.  I'm a little bit sad that summer is probably over, even if it has been a bit much.

Zerlina was 18 yesterday and her brother is 15 tomorrow.  Their parents have been married 21 years today.  On the 24th, Al and Dilly will have been married 22 years.  Well played, all of you.  Love and congratulations.  Zerlina passed her driving test a couple of weeks ago, which is also fab.  Worth being old for.  I'll press on and be fairly cheerful.

A mere 22º

 It's been appreciably cooler today, which simply means normal for the time of the year.  My day started early. I woke up around 4.30, which means a good night (anything before 3 is bad news) and was relaxedly scrolling on my phone - at that moment wrestling with New York Times Connections, having already solved Wordle - when the cat sat up and started licking her lips.  That's not good.  I got up and walked round the bed to her, she started vibrating and that does not mean purring.  It was more of a full body thing than that.  I picked her up, decided we wouldn't make it downstairs and held her over the washbasin.  She was not happy.

One furball later, neatly deposited in the sink, I took her downstairs and invited her to go outside.Ten minutes later, having cleaned the basin (it was not one of the dry furballs, it would have been most unpleasant in bed), I invited her back in.  She ignored me, indignant.

Anyway, I had a nap later before getting up, so the morning hadn't started too badly.

Yesterday, Ro came over, as he'd been invited to a get-together later with a group of friends and I'm on his way.  But when he arrived, he was massively distressed.  He'd just had a text from the wife of a friend of his.  The night before, M had a heart attack, was revived by the paramedics but tests had shown he was brain dead.  His wife had to tell a few people and then asked Ro to tell the rest of his friends.  

I only met M a couple of times, when they were all at school together.  He was a year older than Ro, only 43.  Forty three.  He'd had a medical a few months ago, because he and G were adopting a baby and they both needed checkups. Nothing showed.  Lovely man, a lovely couple, now G is a widow with a young baby.  If I'm as upset as I am, I can only imagine how very hard it is for his wife, family and friends, as well as Ronan who was a close friend.  They used to see each other every couple of weeks.  

I've nearly finished the china, up to Lot 100 of 102, but then there are the books, around a dozen of them.  I also have to label the china.  It's in my very secure big dining room and then it'll all be put in the strong room, which is so secure that the police let the Sage keep his guns in there without a gun cupboard (obviously, as I don't have a licence, I don't have them any more).  Russell didn't kill but he was a crack shot with a rifle to a target.  He liked the 1,000 yards distance best, which I can't begin to imagine.  A bullseye, at least 9 times out of 10, at more than half a mile.  Beyond belief to me. He loved to calculate the distortion (mirage), trajectory and even curvature of the earth, all in his head, before he fired.  Shooting a pheasant was too easy and he didn't want to kill for sport.  

It'll be an early start tomorrow, as we're off on a coach trip, all highly cultural of course.  We need to leave home by 7 o'clock.  The cats will be surprised.  Then a couple of fairly busy days, then I'm off to the caravan, possibly for the last time, on Friday.  

Z is fine, whatever the doctor thinks

I finally sat down at my elderly desktop computer and found that there are literally dozens of pages in Safari that are open but empty.  I can only think that the cat has tried to blog and didn't quite manage it.  I've closed at least 20 of them, but there's a long way to go and the dear old Mac is slow, nowadays, even just shutting something.  

Things are all right, or possibly not.  Wink and I spend time together bemoaning the ageing process.  I'm still on iron tablets and am due another blood test tomorrow, to see if there's progress.  Last time, there was and there was no blood where there had no business to be blood, but my very nice doctor clearly isn't happy.  He has a feeling.  And, very sensibly, he's acting on that feeling, which I can only applaud, at least in theory.  I don't think he's right, because there's no blood where there shouldn't be (which would be the only symptom apart from anaemia) and I feel absolutely well, with more verve (even allowing for the enervating effect of many weeks of heatwave) than I did have before the iron.  I don't think I would if his alternative suggestion is the case, which leaves me, on a balance of probabilities, thinking I'm probably okay.  But he's right to check.  So I've been referred for a combined gastroscopy and colonoscopy (Ro and I have giggled about being skewered from both ends, because you've got to laugh, innit?) which frankly sounds ghastly.  I have to drink something the night before and am darkly warned to stay near the lavatory, not to travel and, well, just park myself by the loo or on the loo until I'm emptier than I've ever been in my life, and then don't eat anything.  I haven't got a date for this yet, but Lovely Dilly and Al have assured me that they will take me (I suspect they'll be at work and I don't want them to take time off, but we'll see how that goes.  Plan B is Ronan, who lives close to the hospital).

An unrelated but dismal other medical thing was a gumboil.  Very unfortunately, I've got an infection that can only be cleared up temporarily - there is nothing wrong with the tooth, which is the molar next to the wisdom tooth, bottom left, but I've got to have it out.  The appointment for that is just before the bank holiday weekend.  Ro had to have a wisdom tooth out a few years ago, for a similar reason and he's warned me what to expect.  It's not nice - the extraction itself is the least of it.  I'll have a difficult week or so afterwards.  Eat well before you come in, the receptionist said kindly, when I was making the appointment.  So I had a week of antibiotics to help suppress the infection - I was lucky (I'll find luck wherever I go, somehow) that the pus - sorry, I shuddered too - has been draining downwards into my gum, otherwise I'd have been in a lot of pain.  It's almost as unpleasant to consider this infection draining into my poor jaw.  But at least I feel nothing.

You think this is enough?  My lovely sister Wink is about to have a breathing test at the hospital, because she's having problems.  The lung guy assures her it isn't cancer.  The heart guy assures her it isn't heart failure.  What it's likely to be is a blockage in an artery, so she's also booked for an angiogram.  This is three days after my tooth extraction, so I'll be hungry but able to drive.

Weeza and co had a lovely holiday and all went well with Wink, Izzy the dog and the house.  We didn't do the jollies we'd planned because it was just too hot, but we went out for lunch instead and discovered a splendid pub that we will visit again, by the river in Coltishall.

I've mostly been relaxing, because of the heat.  My watch tells me that I'm taking less exercise than a year ago.  Well yes, that's because of the heat and it's actual NHS advice.  People die of this!  I'm old enough to give myself leeway.  I'd wanted to go to London for various exhibitions, but they have to wait.  No unnecessary journeys.  But I am off to the caravan on Friday, because I've got things to do there.  Mostly packing up, which I'm really sad about but I console myself with the thousands of pounds I'll save that I can do something else with.  I don't save for my old age any longer, I'm already there.

I've written more than enough, but there's a lot still to say.  So, after a rather depressing to read post - I'm fine, genuinely, it's just life - I'll have a mixture next time.  Which in theory will be tomorrow, but I'm in the middle of photographing china, which also involves describing and checking for damage, so takes as many hours as I can bear to spend.  

Finally signed in

 I’m writing on my phone. I can’t sign in on the laptop. It’s as if the powers don’t like bloggers any more. 

I went to the caravan in Wales and have confirmed that I’ll give it up at the end of the season. Being without internet, I kept a journal but it rambled somewhat - it’s one thing to write daily and post it, but several days of it just seems indulgent. 

I’ve been dutifully swallowing iron pills, have had another blood test and the doctor is due to phone tomorrow. 

Last Saturday, I visited the London flat, which the lovely tenants vacated the day before, as they were returning to Australia. By now, it should have been redecorated and a few repairs made, ready for the new tenants tomorrow. 

I also did my annual accounts and gave them to my accountant today. 

What else I’ve done has been to gather together nearly all the china for the next auction - a few other items booked in. 

When it’s all written down, it looks as if I’ve got a lot done. I suppose I have. 

Wink is house/dog sitting for Weeza and co, who are on holiday. We’ll have a day out together soon. 

Blogger nanny knows nothing

 I'm having problems with Blogger.  I much preferred to use the blog on my own domain, but I had a huge amount of difficulty with it last year and I've simply given up.  It's all complicated and it was because *they* messed up and the person I managed to speak to gave me incorrect information, because clearly he didn't understand the problem and didn't realise he didn't, so didn't kick it up to the next level.  Eventually, after an hour on the phone on another occasion, I got a woman who did understand, sorted it out from her end - but then I was removed from the sign in page.  At that point, I came back to Blogger.  At least, as I've paid, the blog is there.  I had it for several years and don't want to lose it.

Anyway, for an unknown reason, Blogger has my default email wrong (though only here) - it's a real address but not the one the blog is linked to.  This is why, sometimes, when I answer comments, it's under a different address.  Just going from the blog to the comment signs me out of the correct account.  But, for the last couple of days, I've been unable to change it.  I'm only able to post at all because I go back in 'history' to the post edit page.  If you leave a comment and it doesn't appear, it's because I'm having such difficulty approving it.

I've a horrible feeling I'm going to have to speak to someone.

Meanwhile, today is a computer day, in the work sense.  That, of course, is why I'm writing here instead of doing the work.  Maybe coffee will help.  

Since the hot weather started, caffeine hasn't been part of my life, for the most part.  I've just been drinking a lot of water with a great deal of ice and slices of cucumber and lemon.  It's getting boring, to be frank, but what else to do?  Everything else is too hot or too sweet or, in the case of alcohol during the day, I don't want it and it's too strong for the weather.  Today, the temperature is due to rise to a mere 24º (75º) so perhaps a nice, strong cup of black coffee will start professional Z off.

The other nuisance with Blogger is that it insists on putting my name.  Here, I am Z and always have been.  Autobuggerup repeatedly changes it.  I delete superfluous letters and Blanny tells me it knows best.  I have to type the next word and then go back and change it again.  I'm reasonably sure I can sign in to the correct account on my old computer, possibly on my phone too, so I trust I won't disappear again.

Z muses

 It's a funny thing.  When I was having tests,  I was more concerned about the nuisance of possibly having to rearrange things than anything else.  There are a number of things every single week from now until the end of the year, and quite a lot after that.  Anyway, it seems probable that my nice white blood cells are successfully fighting some viral infection and that is most likely to have skewed the red blood cells.  So I'm being prescribed iron tablets and am to be given another blood test in three weeks' time.  I've been extremely impressed by the GP practice and the two doctors I've spoken to/seen.  

Wink and I have been talking about being too busy for a while.  It's not just being busy, it's the structure of it.  Too many things that happen every week or every month and having to fit in extras where we can, then more crops up and we keep on juggling our time.  We don't see a way out of it.  We'd like to be able to be spontaneous, but it's a matter of looking in the diary and noting a day or two, three weeks hence, when we have the opportunity for spontaneity. That isn't being spontaneous, is it?  

Anyway, at least tomorrow I'm free until 6 o'clock, when we're going to the local theatre for dinner before a film.  Lovely, I can catch up with paperwork.