Miscellany
Mar. 8th, 2005 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
urocyonYesterday morning, I was up at 6:00 to see my mother off at Gatwick. Though it was a long visit, and trying at times--though not half so trying as for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vatine, I'm sure *eg*--I enjoyed having her around and am already missing her. Besides the general pleasure of company, a change of scene helped her out of the depression she'd fallen into after her diagnosis and surgery. She'd gone deep enough that I was frightened for her, back in August and early September, and she is just bloody-minded enough to go ahead and do it once she's decided she's likely to die unless something is done to distract her. ;) I appreciate all the help she gave me around here once she was feeling better and I'd sunk into the surprisingly intense reactive (so much change, so little time!) and seasonal depression, and couldn't get much done, including shopping and laundry. I can manage now--not that it was all playing human crutches *g*. Having more time alone with Ingvar again will be nice, too.
The flight apparently went well. Requesting assistance when I booked the ticket, even with U.S. Air (the most affordable non-United choice into Roanoke at the time), seemed to do the trick. She was chauffeured around the airports on one of those cool little golf cart jobbies, and was moved to the front of business class on the transatlantic flight for lack of crippling effect. Other than the flight out of Charlotte never actually being announced, then the passengers being herded off the puddlejumper so that they could repair the thing (with attending delay), things went more smoothly than usual.
We minicabbed to the airport, but I took the train back to Romford. Instead of heading straight home from the station, I decided to veer off shopping. I picked up some sorely-needed clothes on the way to Wilkinson for sorely needed cheap kitchen supplies, and the seed-starting things and multiple bags of potting soil I'd been wanting to head out and buy for weeks. Now we also have a spade; there wasn't a pointy shovel in the place. That was definitely time for another minicab home.
Yesterday evening, I soaked and planted out a Dicentra spectabilis (always loved bleeding heart), two of an unspecified cultivar of red Astilbe, and a Matteuccia struthiopteris (Ostrich or fiddlehead fern--thought it was the sort I'd seen wild!), broken into two viable pieces. All of them were 99p bareroot specials from Wilkinson, and looked decent. Then I spent a decent bit of the evening trying to tidy things up.
Yes, I did overdo things a bit yesterday--and again today!--possibly to prove to myself that I can get things done by myself again. *shakes head*
Today I did laundry, then went to give blood for the first time here, just down the road. They would not take my blood. It seemed to have less to do with the number of medications I am taking than that they are for bipolar disorder. The people doing the screening were very pleasant, but did not mention this directly; the nurse with whom I wound up speaking did say that the regulations will be changing soon, and if the medications are safe, there should be no problem with my giving blood. She then left the cubicle for several minutes, leaving the binder open on the table to the page with an actual heading "Psychiatric Patients". The couple of paragraphs were interesting reading, to say the least. At this point, accepting blood from someone who is asymptomatic on a simple antidepressant or the like is discretionary--this is the best case. Obviously the lady thought I was in full control of my senses, so she did collect medication details for their GP, and a release for information from my GP. I should hear back in a month or two as to whether they'll accept my blood.
Needless to say, I left the collection point a bit upset. Nobody has shown the least hesitation to take my (O-neg, good for newborn babies thanks to my immune system) blood while taking this or similar medication. The only reason I've ever been turned away is because my body temperature normally hovers about a degree Fahrenheit above average. I found the Mental Health Act here a bit disturbing, with its lack of need to demonstrate a risk of harm to anyone, but it was really unsettling to find a similar approach/attitude mirrored in National Blood Service regulations, of all things.
vatine, I'm sure *eg*--I enjoyed having her around and am already missing her. Besides the general pleasure of company, a change of scene helped her out of the depression she'd fallen into after her diagnosis and surgery. She'd gone deep enough that I was frightened for her, back in August and early September, and she is just bloody-minded enough to go ahead and do it once she's decided she's likely to die unless something is done to distract her. ;) I appreciate all the help she gave me around here once she was feeling better and I'd sunk into the surprisingly intense reactive (so much change, so little time!) and seasonal depression, and couldn't get much done, including shopping and laundry. I can manage now--not that it was all playing human crutches *g*. Having more time alone with Ingvar again will be nice, too.The flight apparently went well. Requesting assistance when I booked the ticket, even with U.S. Air (the most affordable non-United choice into Roanoke at the time), seemed to do the trick. She was chauffeured around the airports on one of those cool little golf cart jobbies, and was moved to the front of business class on the transatlantic flight for lack of crippling effect. Other than the flight out of Charlotte never actually being announced, then the passengers being herded off the puddlejumper so that they could repair the thing (with attending delay), things went more smoothly than usual.
We minicabbed to the airport, but I took the train back to Romford. Instead of heading straight home from the station, I decided to veer off shopping. I picked up some sorely-needed clothes on the way to Wilkinson for sorely needed cheap kitchen supplies, and the seed-starting things and multiple bags of potting soil I'd been wanting to head out and buy for weeks. Now we also have a spade; there wasn't a pointy shovel in the place. That was definitely time for another minicab home.
Yesterday evening, I soaked and planted out a Dicentra spectabilis (always loved bleeding heart), two of an unspecified cultivar of red Astilbe, and a Matteuccia struthiopteris (Ostrich or fiddlehead fern--thought it was the sort I'd seen wild!), broken into two viable pieces. All of them were 99p bareroot specials from Wilkinson, and looked decent. Then I spent a decent bit of the evening trying to tidy things up.
Yes, I did overdo things a bit yesterday--and again today!--possibly to prove to myself that I can get things done by myself again. *shakes head*
Today I did laundry, then went to give blood for the first time here, just down the road. They would not take my blood. It seemed to have less to do with the number of medications I am taking than that they are for bipolar disorder. The people doing the screening were very pleasant, but did not mention this directly; the nurse with whom I wound up speaking did say that the regulations will be changing soon, and if the medications are safe, there should be no problem with my giving blood. She then left the cubicle for several minutes, leaving the binder open on the table to the page with an actual heading "Psychiatric Patients". The couple of paragraphs were interesting reading, to say the least. At this point, accepting blood from someone who is asymptomatic on a simple antidepressant or the like is discretionary--this is the best case. Obviously the lady thought I was in full control of my senses, so she did collect medication details for their GP, and a release for information from my GP. I should hear back in a month or two as to whether they'll accept my blood.
Needless to say, I left the collection point a bit upset. Nobody has shown the least hesitation to take my (O-neg, good for newborn babies thanks to my immune system) blood while taking this or similar medication. The only reason I've ever been turned away is because my body temperature normally hovers about a degree Fahrenheit above average. I found the Mental Health Act here a bit disturbing, with its lack of need to demonstrate a risk of harm to anyone, but it was really unsettling to find a similar approach/attitude mirrored in National Blood Service regulations, of all things.
no subject
Date: 2005-03-10 01:49 pm (UTC)