Dear people in my computer,

On the surface, my Tuesdays might look quite same-y.  I negotiate the M23 and M25, experience the joys of Tesco, every four weeks or so I add a trip to pick up a small pharmacy for Dad, and then I spend time with Mum and Dad, mostly in their separate places.  But the ‘spending time’ detail is very varied.

Last week, for example, I managed to cook fifteen meals from scratch for Dad’s freezer while convincing a BT man that removing the copper wire and replacing it with a fibre one was not going to happen unless he could be 100% sure that the cable wouldn’t snag on the trees leaving Dad with no phone, internet or Ring doorbell (the compromise on a panic call alarm), while simultaneously getting a man into the loft who was surveying the house.

I was a little sad that they both arrived to see this chaos:

Rather than the end result which I was rather proud of.  More so when I managed to get it all in Dad’s freezer 😁

So that was last week.  This week we had another hospital appointment; this time for a lung function test.  I was allowed in and it was really interesting.  They needed an oxygenated blood sample (I think), which they can take from an artery or ear lobe.  A needle in your wrist artery isn’t terribly comfortable apparently, so they went for an ear.  I couldn’t work out how they’d draw blood from Dads ear lobes as they are capillaries rather than veins.  But it turned out they had that covered as the man put a cork behind Da’s ear while they cut the lobe with a razor blade a bit reminiscent of Van Gough…. I don’t know if everyones ear lobes bleed that much but Dad ended up needing a dressing and a clamp.

Next they put Dad in a Body Box (yes really) for a series of tests:

It was all relatively normal until Dad was given a nose clip for the tests and discovered that the nose clip gave him exactly the right sort of tone to sing The Muppets theme tune…which he did.  Many times over the next hour and 15 minutes of tests… 😂

Whenever he has a blood test dad request an ‘I’ve been brave’ sticker (and gets one).  The poor man doing the tests who may have been too young to remember the muppets came clean that he didn’t have a sticker, but Dad could keep the nose clip.  So as I wheeled dad out of the hospital, despite the fact he must have been exhausted, he was still de-de-de-de-dah…ing. 😁

And to go back to the Van Gough reference, Little Wisp, my 8 year old nice had drawn this for Nanny last week.  Isn’t it amazing?