This afternoon whilst attending the treatment room once again – well it is still daily – one of the nurses asked me if I was working…
Funnily enough, I said ,
No, the doctor gave me a ‘line’ for 4 weeks – and it would be odd to return to work without her agreement
The nurse then asked how often do you come here? Couldn’t you work and come here?
I then explained, nearly in words of one syllable, that I was attending (see not quite one syllable…) for the dressing to be changed daily during Monday to Friday. And no, I live in the north of the city, my work is in the east, and you’ve guessed it, the treatment room is in the north. The public transport is not great – thus meaning I would have 2 hours approximately (I hope she understood that big word…) to travel from work to treatment room and back – to say nothing of the original journey to work and, of course, the one to return home.
Four hours! In Belfast! Just to get to work for eight hours, 2½ of which would be spent going to and from the treatment room. This is without taking into consideration any trips needed to the clinic at the Royal Victoria Hospital; trips to see my GP (which are unlikely to be scheduled near the time for the visit to the nurse – despite being in the same building!).
I don’t think so!
So, off work until at least the dressings have been done and dusted, I shall remain. At least it gives me time for some reading, plenty of writing (on other blogs) and generally looking after myself (with some assistance of course).