Yesterday, I had to take my youngest daughter, Bobbie, to an out-patients appointment at the Renal Clinic at our local NHS Trust Hospital. I mentioned in an earlier blog that Bobbie has Henoch Schonlein Purpura (or HSP for short). The main area of concern is her kidneys and a recent blood test showed that her kidney function has deteriorated so the Doctor has put her on Steroids (with all the associated supportive drugs) and re-biopsied her kidney last Thursday. She was asked to come back into the clinic on Monday - i.e. yesterday.
My husband was not going to be able to take her, so on Friday I applied for 4 hours annual leave so I could take her. Our Resource Planners refused it, so I told my manager that I would have to take it as unpaid dependant leave. She was fine with that.
Yesterday, I took Bobbie to the clinic. The doctors increased her dose of Ramipril because her kidneys are still leaking protein into her urine. The consultant (not the usual one, who is on holiday) also told her that they are thinking of using Cyclophosphamide, which would suppress her immune system, which is causing all this trouble in the first place, or try a Plasma Interchange, which would entail removing the plasma from her blood and replacing it with new - a sort of human Power-Flush. Bobbie took this all in her stride. I have to say, I am really proud of her.
I went to work as soon as we got home and my manager had a little anecdote waiting for me. She was eager to tell me, it had amused her so much.
That morning, she had e-mailed our Resource Planners and asked them to mark me down as being on dependant leave for the morning. She had received an e-mail back saying that I should have taken it as annual leave. She replied that I had applied for annual leave but it had been refused (by the same resource planner). The reply then came from the head of our Resource Planning Department. He said that hospital appointments are made 6 weeks in advance and I should have applied for my leave 6 weeks in advance. She replied to him (and I think she enjoyed herself doing it) by explaining that Bobbie's illness is not predictable. Sometimes Bobbie is quite well and then sometimes she is not (all very true). When Bobbie gets worse and needs to see a Consultant, her body doesn't give her 6 weeks' notice so that her mother can apply for leave and, therefore, sometimes Jester can only give a couple of days notice. She did not get a reply.
That's what I love about resource planners. They never let you down.
Showing posts with label health problems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health problems. Show all posts
Monday, 2 July 2007
Thursday, 5 April 2007
Jester, Retirement, Insults and Blogging
This particular Goodwill Jester has been particularly quiet of late. There have been a number of reasons for this but the main one, and it is the most important by far, is that my younger daughter is suffering from Henoch-Schonlein Purpura. It started as a slight rash on her calves and a pain in the ankle in Mid March and has developed into a magnificent purpuric rash, swollen and painful joints, stomach aches and most worryingly, problems with her kidneys. She was in hospital for four days at the end of March and so, not surprisingly, work has not been my primary concern recently.
However, she is on the mend now, although it is a slow process, and she will have to attend the renal clinic as an outpatient for some time, but work continues to throw up the same absurdities, irritations and entertainments which are a rich seam for blogging. I was not in the mood before but as she gets better I feel the urge to blog again.
So...
Last Friday was a sad day in the Dark Satanic Mill because one of our most senior jesters retired. When we presented her with her leaving present, which included a mobile phone, there was not a dry eye in the department. The Fat Controller even allowed her to go home early (no doubt docking the missed hours from her pay!) In the evening, we had a combined Retirement/Birthday party for her in a city centre restaurant. I am going to miss her very much. She was a good friend to me.
On a lighter note, we have recently had dealings with a particularly abusive customer. I have to admit that this sort of customer can be delightfully entertaining. She does have cause to complain but her method of complaining is probably the most ill-advised method anybody could use. I first heard about her yesterday morning when our managers were discussing her. She had rung the previous evening and had spoken to one of my fellow jesters, Goodwill Jerry. She had screamed so loudly down the phone that our senior manager, who sits some distance from us (so we cannot distract her from her work), could hear her. When Jerry suggested that they may achieve more if she were not to shout at him and personally insult him, she hung up.
She rang back shortly afterwards and spoke to another colleague. She gave him a false name and refused to give any other details. When he pressed her, citing the Data Protection Act (all customers should confirm the first line of the address, so that we know they are the genuine article), she told him to f*** off and hung up again. She also insulted other people in other departments during the evening (mainly managers) and in the morning I was asked to telephone her.
I rang but I was diverted to her answerphone - a lucky escape as it transpired. I left a message asking her to ring me back. I also said I would ring again in about an hour's time. I then went on my break and when I got back she had rung back and spoken to another of my colleagues, Goodwill Jessica. She told Jessica that she did not want to speak to me because I am not a manager. Nor did she want to speak to Jessica for the same reason. She then went on to say that Jerry had screamed down the phone at her like a demented woman on her period, which just goes to show that Jerry has no balls and is therefore a gay boy. Jessica arranged for one of our managers to ring her back. When she did, our demented customer told her to f*** off as well. Our manager is now putting our response in writing to her.
I firmly believe that there comes a point when a customer loses the right to complain and certainly loses the right to receive any financial compensation in respect of a complaint whether justified or not. I know she passed that point when she spoke to Jessica and I suspect she passed it the previous evening. Never mind though, we had great fun in telling Jerry she had got his number. All good fun in the Dark Satanic Mill, after all.
However, she is on the mend now, although it is a slow process, and she will have to attend the renal clinic as an outpatient for some time, but work continues to throw up the same absurdities, irritations and entertainments which are a rich seam for blogging. I was not in the mood before but as she gets better I feel the urge to blog again.
So...
Last Friday was a sad day in the Dark Satanic Mill because one of our most senior jesters retired. When we presented her with her leaving present, which included a mobile phone, there was not a dry eye in the department. The Fat Controller even allowed her to go home early (no doubt docking the missed hours from her pay!) In the evening, we had a combined Retirement/Birthday party for her in a city centre restaurant. I am going to miss her very much. She was a good friend to me.
On a lighter note, we have recently had dealings with a particularly abusive customer. I have to admit that this sort of customer can be delightfully entertaining. She does have cause to complain but her method of complaining is probably the most ill-advised method anybody could use. I first heard about her yesterday morning when our managers were discussing her. She had rung the previous evening and had spoken to one of my fellow jesters, Goodwill Jerry. She had screamed so loudly down the phone that our senior manager, who sits some distance from us (so we cannot distract her from her work), could hear her. When Jerry suggested that they may achieve more if she were not to shout at him and personally insult him, she hung up.
She rang back shortly afterwards and spoke to another colleague. She gave him a false name and refused to give any other details. When he pressed her, citing the Data Protection Act (all customers should confirm the first line of the address, so that we know they are the genuine article), she told him to f*** off and hung up again. She also insulted other people in other departments during the evening (mainly managers) and in the morning I was asked to telephone her.
I rang but I was diverted to her answerphone - a lucky escape as it transpired. I left a message asking her to ring me back. I also said I would ring again in about an hour's time. I then went on my break and when I got back she had rung back and spoken to another of my colleagues, Goodwill Jessica. She told Jessica that she did not want to speak to me because I am not a manager. Nor did she want to speak to Jessica for the same reason. She then went on to say that Jerry had screamed down the phone at her like a demented woman on her period, which just goes to show that Jerry has no balls and is therefore a gay boy. Jessica arranged for one of our managers to ring her back. When she did, our demented customer told her to f*** off as well. Our manager is now putting our response in writing to her.
I firmly believe that there comes a point when a customer loses the right to complain and certainly loses the right to receive any financial compensation in respect of a complaint whether justified or not. I know she passed that point when she spoke to Jessica and I suspect she passed it the previous evening. Never mind though, we had great fun in telling Jerry she had got his number. All good fun in the Dark Satanic Mill, after all.
Thursday, 8 March 2007
Read and Weep Part 2
I posted yesterday's blog in the short time I had before leaving for work and I don't think I did my subject full justice.
I said that in nearly 21 years of being a copper, my husband has sustained no more than a few bruises. That is not strictly true. He can boast no more than a few bruises in terms of physical injury and I think he is lucky in that respect but police work has taken a more insidious toll on him.
21 years of those shifts for instance. He's now on a 5 week rota - Okay, I did my best but I was not able to put it on this blog in a legible form so I've given up. It's nights followed by earlies, followed by nights, followed by afternoons followed by, you guessed it, nights.
I never know whether he's coming or going so how on earth can he know? His body clock is messed up, his digestion is shot to pieces, he can't sleep - his body no longer knows when it's supposed to sleep.
He is now suffering from high blood pressure. Okay, I know the smoking and drinking (I wonder how many policemen have a drink problem?) and his weight don't help but I think those are also attributable to the pressures that he is put under every day.
Lastly, the depression. He probably won't thank me for mentioning it but I don't think he reads my blogs. Okay, he's never been a particularly happy go lucky sort of a man. I was attracted to his intensity when I first knew him and also a little alarmed at what I thought was his nihilism but this has got worse and significantly so since being in the job.
PC Copperfield and Inspector Gadget will explain far better than me the idiotic procedures, the bosses from hell, the bureaucracy, the idiotic members of the public a policeman encounters in the job. All I can say is my husband finds it all very depressing and his job satisfaction has to be nil or very close to it.
One thing I will say though is that he has worked with some of the most amazing people over the years. I've been privileged to meet a few of them and for a while they had a fantastic team working together from their particular Nick. Of course a forward thinking and energetic Chief Inspector or something similar decided to split them up over the Division a couple of years ago. Bloody typical.
I said that in nearly 21 years of being a copper, my husband has sustained no more than a few bruises. That is not strictly true. He can boast no more than a few bruises in terms of physical injury and I think he is lucky in that respect but police work has taken a more insidious toll on him.
21 years of those shifts for instance. He's now on a 5 week rota - Okay, I did my best but I was not able to put it on this blog in a legible form so I've given up. It's nights followed by earlies, followed by nights, followed by afternoons followed by, you guessed it, nights.
I never know whether he's coming or going so how on earth can he know? His body clock is messed up, his digestion is shot to pieces, he can't sleep - his body no longer knows when it's supposed to sleep.
He is now suffering from high blood pressure. Okay, I know the smoking and drinking (I wonder how many policemen have a drink problem?) and his weight don't help but I think those are also attributable to the pressures that he is put under every day.
Lastly, the depression. He probably won't thank me for mentioning it but I don't think he reads my blogs. Okay, he's never been a particularly happy go lucky sort of a man. I was attracted to his intensity when I first knew him and also a little alarmed at what I thought was his nihilism but this has got worse and significantly so since being in the job.
PC Copperfield and Inspector Gadget will explain far better than me the idiotic procedures, the bosses from hell, the bureaucracy, the idiotic members of the public a policeman encounters in the job. All I can say is my husband finds it all very depressing and his job satisfaction has to be nil or very close to it.
One thing I will say though is that he has worked with some of the most amazing people over the years. I've been privileged to meet a few of them and for a while they had a fantastic team working together from their particular Nick. Of course a forward thinking and energetic Chief Inspector or something similar decided to split them up over the Division a couple of years ago. Bloody typical.
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