I was rushing around getting some last minute errands done this morning when I took a call on my mobile. I am answering every time it rings at the moment because I have the hospital calling for this or a tradesperson for that and I prefer to keep things moving along as much as I can before I hand all that over to Jason to handle.
I was rushing to the chemist to drop in my prescriptions, an annoyance in itself. I manage my own medications (there are a few of them) and I do this in part by making up a dosset pack each month. Unfortunately though when you are a patient in hospital, you are not allowed to ‘self-medicate’ and I understand all the reasons why. When I am admitted, I will hand over all my meds and they must be in their original packaging. What generally happens is (and this is from first hand experience), I hand over my meds and they are put in a locked draw in the bedside table and each morning and night, the rostered nurse comes in, checks my chart, unlocks the drug drawer and then rummages through the dozen boxes asking which ones are which. The beauty of having a dosset made up is that I don’t have to think about it. I can with complete confidence tip the pills into my hand and know that they are what I need to take. Expecting a patient who is drugged, unwell, etc. to be able to communicate sufficiently as to which box they should be selecting, is, frankly flawed!
Forgive me. I digress.
I was going to the chemist and my phone rang. It was a ‘cold-call’ asking if I wanted to take out funeral insurance! He had my complete attention at that point. My mind then raced as I thought of and discarded possible responses when I settled on polite, dang it! I told him I had all the insurance I needed. He tells me how much he was hoping to hear someone say that today and my patience begins to slide. He proceeds with his sales pitch, asking me how much I pay a fortnight for my insurance and I tell him it’s none of his business, thank him for intruding on my day and hang up.
If ever I doubted the extent of the computerised Big Brother, I doubt no longer.
I proceed with my errands, enjoy a spa visit to rid my body of hair in several places and enjoy being somewhere where there is nothing for me to do and no one here knows what is approaching for me at week’s end. I can pretend for a short while that life is completely normal. Then it’s on to meet Jason and head to the Alice Springs Court House to have my Power of Attorney documents witnessed and certified. From sanctuary to harsh reality in 10 minutes.