Dishwasher Blues

So, not a comfortable week. It’s early yet, but I may be taking a downer on 2012. To start with the mundane and move on to the, well, less mundane, I’ve been trying to buy a washing machine and dishwasher. Both of these packed up around a month ago, and the landlord promptly offered to replace them. Other things intervened, so I only placed an order last week. I went to the Co-op, both because they had decent prices and delivery options, and because I want to support the Co-op.

Orders were placed on Wednesday, and delivery arranged for Friday. And then the fun began. On Thursday afternoon, we had a call saying the washing machine we ordered wasn’t in stock. But not to worry, they would substitute for the next more expensive model at the same price. Great.

Friday morning, a man arrived to fit the washing machine. Which hadn’t arrived. No word on the dishwasher. Peevish call to the delivery depot, and we were told there had been a mistake, and the delivery would happen on Saturaday. Saturday, the washing machine arrived (no sign of the dishwasher). The delivery guys wouldn’t fit it because our piping wasn’t bracketed. I’ve never heard this excuse before, but apparently it’s all in the T&Cs. So I sent them away and phoned the Co-op. I was more peevish. This time I was told that there had been a mistake, and the dishwasher hadn’t been packed. There were no deliveries on Monday, but I was promised a single delivery on Tuesday. On Tuesday morning, two men arrived with the dishwasher. No washing machine. They were pleased to fit the dishwasher. But it didn’t fit. Seriously, it wedged half way into the space where the previous slimline dishwasher had lived. So I sent them away, and cancelled the dishwasher order. Then I called a plumber, to see if he could fit my washing machine, on the assumption that it was ever delivered. He agreed, and toddled over within an hour. Best described as a geezer, he disconnected the old machine, blocked various pipes, and told me he’d be out tomorrow after lunch. An hour later, the new washing machine arrived, and it’s now sitting in the middle of the coup I used to call a kitchen.

Now I need to get that fitted, and go buy a new dishwasher.

More to come…

Less Mundane.

Unblinkered had a nasty fall on Sunday night. She twisted her ankle pretty badly, badly enough that, with my support, she went off to Casualty (you don't call it that anymore, you call in Accident and Emergency). 

We spent a pretty boring couple of hours in the Western Infirmary, and an x-ray confirmed that she hadn't broken anything, so the good drugs and good advice were distributed, and we set off home, diverting to pick up walking sticks from Sadie Lou, who'd managed to break her ankle last year, in a roller-derby related accident. 

Unblinkered spent Monday with her feet up, and managed to get to work yesterday. Naturally she overdid it, and was back on the sofa last night, but it looks like she'll be, um, back on her feet in no time. 

So, another chance to praise the NHS. Yes, we waited for a couple of hours to be seen, but the given reason was that "All the doctors are in resuscitation". I chose to believe that they were treating, rather than being treated. The place was fairly busy, and at least two police cases were in. I think about 20 people were seen while we were there. All the staff were polite, receptionists, nurses, doctor, x-ray tech and all. 

No one asked us for money. No one offered us a choice of another A&E, or another doctor, and you know what? That was fine. 

God bless the NHS.

And something with which I cannot deal.

My dad was booked in for an angiogram on Monday. It's a long story, involving ongoing care, and a referral to a heart specialist, and being told he had heart valve damage, which had three different treatment options: control with drugs, fitting a stent, bypass surgery. The angiogram was to give details to allow them to decide on the treatment. On Monday he phoned to give me details about a charity ball we're going to at the weekend. While he was on, I asked him about the angiogram. No, he wouldn't have offered details. I'm surprised he even told me he was having the test done (last time he needed an op, I got a call from him telling me he'd gotten out of hospital. Never one telling me he was going in). Anyway. The test showed damage to three valves, not one, which puts treatment with stents out of the question. Today there will be a case conference to decide between drugs and a bypass. I'm wondering now if the decision is whether they think he's healthy enough to survive the bypass. 

And I just cannot deal with this. Trying to think of it just reveals a big, blank space where my thoughts fall off the end of the road. My throat tightens, my chest constricts. I just cannot get further than thinking that this is not something I can deal with. 

I'll hear more tonight, and we'll see each other at the weekend. But I just don't want this to be happening.