Finding somewhere to live back home in the UK

 Before I started receiving my state pension in 2018 I decided to check out the UK property rental market. I wasn't seriously considering going home just yet, but felt I had to have some idea of what I would have to pay for accommodation. I didn't own anything in the UK, selling my house in Brazil would not raise enough capital to buy anything (and I mean "anything" - except maybe a garage!), but I was pretty sure I had to set my sights low, and it would have to be in the North of England (or possibly even in Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland!) to find anything affordable.

I had a quick look around Central Bedfordshire where my daughter lived, but, as expected, rentals there were outside my budget, as was Norfolk, where I had previously lived for 30 years, so my search extended back to my home county of Yorkshire. Although I would have preferred to live somewhere rural I knew that my situation (long before I knew about Chip!) meant that I should look for something close to amenities, and was relieved to find that flats in coastal Yorkshire towns appeared affordable. I liked the idea of being close to the sea, and my childhood memories of these places meant there was considerable appeal to me.

Fast forwards to 2021 when I eventually returned to the UK and the situation had changed dramatically! I stayed with my daughter and her husband at first, but knew this could only be a temporary solution - especially as they were both still working from home due to the pandemic - though until I could get referred to a specialist for my ongoing shoulder treatment did not want to commit myself to a radically different area. I did, however, start researching straight away, and was horrified to discover that rental costs had rocketed since 2018, in part due to the pandemic. Locally - to Central Bedfordshire - prices had increased to unaffordable levels, unless I wanted to do a flat share! Even looking further Northwards, including Yorkshire, I felt that one-bedroomed flats were now beyond my means, but when I eventually contacted a letting agent in Luton, Bedfordshire my dreams were shattered even further! According to them in order to pass a credit reference check, which all landlords would request, my income needed to be 30 times the rental amount - so for a £500 a month rental, which within 50 miles of where I was meant next to nothing available, required an annual income of £15,000 - and I was nowhere near this!

By now I had been staying with my daughter for over 2 months, so felt I was close to over-staying my welcome. I had managed to make contact with the RNOH (Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital) in Stanmore, and though couldn't afford anything close to there, needed to be withing easy access, so close to public transport links. Luton fitted that bill, but was not the "nicest" place to live, and though I dropped my search to include studio flats (basically bedsits) was still struggling to find anything within my one thirtieth "budget"! I did view a couple of flats in Luton, within walking distance of the transport hub - train and bus stations - but the locations were less than salubrious, and the letting agents told me I would either have to pay 6 months rent up front, or else get a guarantor.

I was getting pretty desperate at this stage - I felt the one thirtieth credit reference requirement was too harsh, especially since in my situation on a guaranteed income, with low personal outgoings (no smoking, no drinking, no transport to work costs, no debt, etc.), but this was non-negotiable. I had also registered with a couple of sheltered housing (warden controlled for over-55 or disabled) associations, but they had long waiting lists, and many were not located that close to amenities, and had also joined a couple of Facebook rental sites - though the only "positive" response through that avenue was from a gentleman in Ireland offering me a reference-free rental with no viewing, just a "deposit" in advance and he would post me the keys!! I politely declined!

I had previously found a promising property in Bedford and arranged a viewing, and made my way there, but the letting agent was a no-show! They said they had messaged me for confirmation and I didn't respond, but I never got any message or email from them about it. I did, however, rearrange, and travelled from Luton, where I had another viewing, to see the flat. It was very small, unfurnished (though had a fridge, cooker and washing machine - and a bed frame without mattress), but the area looked OK - I had walked around on my first visit, and had arrived early this time so looked round some more - so made an offer. They required a 6-month up front rent payment, as well as a deposit, but by now I felt I had no option, short of moving farther to the North, and much further from Stanmore and more difficult to attend the hospital appointments. On October 10, 2021 I finally moved in!

From the window - next to my bed - towards the "sitting room"

From front door towards the "bedroom"

Kitchen area

While waiting for the lease to start I had been buying things I needed - mattress, sofa, chest of drawers, bedding, kitchenware (crockery, cutlery, pots and pans, kitchen utensils) - and my daughter donated a lot of things to me - TV, duvet and pillows, bedding, pair of folding chairs among other things - so when I moved in, with greatly appreciated help of daughter and son-in-law, I had everything I needed. Just round the corner was a shop selling secondhand white goods, so I bought a tumble drier and freezer, meaning I was now totally self-contained!

View from my window - there are 3 tower blocks to the right, but not as bad as I envisaged, and the area is pretty quiet.

I am 10 minutes walk from the city centre and bus station, about the same from the train station, and a similar distance from my GP, and just round the corner there is a Sainsbury Local, so everything I need within easy reach, as well as a large park not far away. The flat is much smaller than anything I have lived in, and a lot different from what I thought I would be renting, but I have now been here almost a year, and am happy with it - I have everything I need, it is easy to keep clean, doesn't feel claustrophobic, and the bills are affordable - despite the current economic situation! I have simple needs - food being the primary one! - and feel that this little place is now my home, and am very happy here!

Leaving Peru for good - Quarantine in London.

 Once in my hotel room I called reception and they said they would sent a paramedic up, and I read through all the rules and regulations, and set up my laptop, realising that my charger was in one of the missing suitcases. Quick call to my daughter - luckily roaming was working on my Peruvian sim - and she ordered one to be sent to me (which arrived the following day delivered to the hotel!).

Then the paramedic arrived - who was a very nice young woman, but totally unsure what to do. Dressing changes were not part of their brief, and though she said that she COULD do it, she was unsure whether she was allowed to, so had to call her boss. He told her it was the responsibility of my GP to arrange this, and I should call them in the morning, but she did change the dressing for me. I was registered with a GP in the UK, but had not been to see them for over 3 years, and that was when I first registered at the surgery near to my daughter. I duly called them in the morning and they arranged for someone to call me back. Since they were in Bedfordshire and I was near Heathrow they could not do much, but suggested I try and get temporary registration with a GP close to Heathrow, and ask them for assistance, as clearly I needed a district nurse to come and do the dressing changes. They did express surprise that the resident paramedic (from a private service) appeared unable to help. I called the closest GP surgery, but they were unable to help, saying they could not send anyone in to a quarantine hotel, but suggested I called the paramedics back and insisted that it was their responsibility, especially since I had advised the hotel on my booking form that I needed assistance.

I called the paramedic again and it was the same young woman from the previous evening. She called my GP surgery and spoke to the nurse there, and spoke to her outside my room. When she returned she agreed to change the dressing, but again said that she was not really meant to do that, but would continue to do so. On Sunday she was a little concerned about the state of the wound so wrote a report and I was sent to the local hospital Accident & Emergency, where I was seated initially alone in a quarantine room before seeing a doctor. He said that the wound was "snotty" and didn't look too good, but cleaned it, gave me antibiotics, and some spare dressings, and was very angry that I was being given the run-around, when I clearly needed assistance. He told me I should insist that the paramedic do their job of providing due care to their patients, and if they refused I should come back to A&E for treatment!

The next paramedic I saw was different, and though he also said that this was not really within the scope of their "contract" with the quarantine hotel, he would do all he could to treat my wound. I did however have to order some dressings, wound cleaning supplies, and medication from a local pharmacy! Some of the paramedics I saw during the 10 days I was there used their own supplies, but others used the ones I had provided.

While all this was going on I was still without my baggage - only having what I was carrying in my hand luggage, and the white T-shirt provided at Heathrow! I called the baggage claim number and they said they would look into it, and would I call back the next day. I called back again and was given the same story - that they were looking into it. I was given a number I could use to track the claim online, but this showed nothing. Eventually after a couple of days hotel security called - they had heard about my baggage predicament and offered assistance. I gave them all the baggage tag numbers and flight details, and three hours later there was a knock on my door - they had located and collected my bags for me! Amazing service!

Surprisingly good evening meal - Lamb Curry, onion bhajis, Naan bread and fruit salad

Lunch - Soup and roll, Panini with cheese, bag of crisps and fruit salad.

Apart from this my stay was pretty uneventful, and ultimately quite pleasant. A lot was made in the press and online about how terrible the quarantine hotels were, especially the food - but I must have been one of the lucky ones, as I found the food to be very good, both in quantity and quality, and the choice was adequate. All in all, my stay was relaxing, and after the initial concerns about getting my dressing changed and lack of baggage were resolved, my new adventure could start back home in the UK. I was collected by my son-in-law on day 11, and finally reunited with my daughter over 3 years since we last saw each other!

View from my window towards Heathrow

Leaving Peru for good.

 I knew that eventually the time would come when I had to turn my back on South America and return to the UK, but did not expect it to happen like this. I had been in Peru now for over a year, instead of the usual 6 months, lockdown and curfew regulations were still in place (and being largely ignored by large numbers of people, resulting in Peru having the highest mortality rates in the world (per 100,000 people).

When I first started my annual visits to Peru I rented a small apartment, and had used the same one for 6 of my 8 visits, and although it was "furnished" I had accumulated a lot of personal items over the years, especially things in the kitchen, as well as my motorbike - which was still in pieces with the mechanic! I needed to divest myself of all of these things, so started sorting out the things I needed/wanted to keep from those I would be giving away. I could have sold some of them, but decided that there were people who could benefit far more from receiving these items, than the monetary value I could receive. Some I would like to have kept, like my fishing tackle, but, apart, from the weight of these, I was pretty sure that my beach fishing days were over due to the lack of a shoulderblade on my dominant arm, so these were bundled up and given away.

Oli, the motorbike, was a problem. It still was not running, and the mechanic did not appear to have a clue how to rectify this, so in the end I gave it to Carmen's (my guardian angel) son. I had spent a lot of money on new parts during my current stay in Huanchaco - new fuel tank, new seat, loads of new engine parts - but felt I couldn't sell a non-runner that might never run again, so spoke to Carmen's son and he agreed to take on the project. As well as the bike, there were loads of extras like tools, crash helmet and the two bolt-on panniers. Ironically it took his mechanic only a few days to get Oli running again, but I was pleased it had gone to a new home.

I gave Carmen first choice on everything else, but did give a lot of things to Manuel and Valeria (including the fishing gear), who were the first friends I made in Peru, and who used to look after all my things when I went back to Brazil every year. It still left me with a lot of things and I was pleased that my ticket back to the UK included 2 pieces of checked luggage.

Throughout all this I was still having the wound on my shoulder dressed twice a day by Carmen, and as the flight date approached I realised that the wound would still be open by the time I left. Due to Peru being on the UK's "Red list" I needed to stay in a quarantine hotel for 10 days on arrival, and duly notified them I would need daily treatment on my shoulder, but for the flight itself (it was going to take around 24 hours until I was in the hotel) Carmen simply put extra padding on the wound, and taped it up to prevent any leaks.

The day of departure arrived, and it was quite an emotional affair. Carmen and her son took me to the airport, and the farewell was difficult, especially as we both knew it was probably going to be our last meeting. Trujillo to Lima was uneventful, but I had to collect my baggage there to check in for the next leg as it was a different airline. This was unusual as generally if you book a trip through one company (in this instance LATAM) your baggage is checked in until your final destination, but I collected my bags and joined the check-in queue. I had a couple of hours until the flight so was not too concerned, but soon realised that the Iberia check-in queue was not moving. It turned out that their system had crashed and they could not process any tickets!

After an hour in a static queue, and a long way from the desk, I started to get a bit worried, and there was still no sign of any activity. As boarding time approached we still were not moving, and I managed to get the attention of an airport worker who simply told me not to worry, and they were dealing with it. Departure time came and went, and the information board still showed boarding, but finally we started moving slowly. I eventually managed to check in 90 minutes after my flight should have departed, and as then rushed to immigration by a member of staff, and straight on to the plane, and we took off a few minutes later, almost 2 hours late.

I realised that the 2 hours I was supposed to have between flights in Madrid was probably also now going to be impossible, as, although I did not have to collect my baggage, I did have to find my way to the departure lounge for the Heathrow flight. I also had hotel quarantine transport booked based on that flight data, so was worried about the implications there, too. As it turned out I managed to get to the departure gate with minutes to spare, despite a slight delay while they checked all my Covid paperwork, and landed in London on schedule.

There was a special immigration "lane" for "Red list" passengers so I joined that and there were only a handful of passengers ahead of me, but only one immigration official on this queue, and he left his post when I reached the front of the queue and disappeared for 30 minutes! Eventually I asked another official what was happening, and he called someone to process me, and I was escorted to baggage reclaim by a "quarantine" official. Of course my baggage was not there, and in hindsight I should have seen this - there had been no time in Lima for my bags to get on the Madrid flight, and again in Madrid there would have been no time to get them on the Heathrow flight! I was taken to the reclaim desk, but, other than giving me a small pack with some toiletries and a t-shirt, the staff refused to process me as I was now "in quarantine"! They did give me a link to the claim section on their website.

I was then taken to a waiting area for quarantine transport, by this stage I was stressed out, tired, and aching all over. Suddenly a customs officer appeared alongside me and wanted to check all my hand luggage!! She was very interested in my blood sugar reading log - I suppose all the lists of numbers (in a plain notebook) looked suspicious, and then was further intrigued by my collection of sim cards (I had Peru, Brazil and an old UK one, too!), but finally was satisfied I was not carrying anything. About 30 minutes later I was on the bus - the only passenger in a 40-seater bus - heading for my hotel, and was processed there before being shown my room. I asked about getting the dressing changed as it was now well over 24 hours old, but they knew nothing about this, and did not know what to do, but suggested I call reception and ask for assistance.

To be continued ...

Being ill abroad - Part 6 - endgame!

***GRAPHIC IMAGE ALERT*** There are some images of the wound post-surgery that may affect those of a sensitive nature. 

When I was in hospital for the biopsy I found out that things worked very differently in Peru. I kept being asked who my "familiar" (Spanish for relative) was, and I assumed they were just asking about next of kin - but it was much more than that. A relative has to be on call to run errands, collect meds, and so on - and many stay at the hospital all day in case they are needed! Twice a day the nurses/doctors check if you need more supplies and give this to the familiar to collect from the pharmacy (which could entail going into the centre of Trujillo)! I explained that I had no family in Peru, and was told that normally there are volunteers who can do these for patients, but due to the pandemic the volunteers could no longer enter the hospital, and the social workers (who had in fact collected things for me the previous stay) couldn't for long stays. In my case, too, as a foreigner who had to pay for everything, collecting meds from the pharmacy entailed going there with the prescription, getting it digitised, then going to the cashier (not at the same location) to pay, and then returning to the pharmacy to collect the items - if some were unavailable the relative also had to go out of the hospital to find the items elsewhere, and this was twice a day! The relative also is not allowed to come into the ward and see the patient due to Covid restrictions!

I was at a bit of a loss what to do, but a friend (from my volunteering days) told me she would be happy to do this for me - and then spent much of the next 9 days outside the ward waiting to be called upon by the ward staff! It was way more than I expected, and I realised I had a guardian angel - Carmen!

Carmen - my guardian angel. This is how you had to cover up - double mask and face shield - to enter the hospital grounds!

She assured me that she didn't mind, and had some friends among the support staff, so was visiting them as well, but what she did for me was above and beyond what I expected from a friend, as opposed to a relative! Prior to admission I had to pay for one night's stay plus a selection of medical "supplies", but after admission the first "familiar" collected prescription arrived, and this included the surgical supplies required for the operation - and included things like scalpels, gowns for theatre staff, anaesthetic, and so on! It also included 3 units of blood, which might be needed if there were problems during surgery requiring a transfusion! Since I had no-one to call on for this I had to pay for 3 units to be on standby, which were not needed and took me three weeks post-discharge to get refunded for!

While I was in hospital the nurses came round every 4 hours to take "stats" and this included pricking my finger for blood sugar testing (I only do it once a day at home), and although I had my own testing kit, though had to ask Carmen to buy me some more test strips as I hadn't anticipated the 6-a-day tests, they preferred to use a hypodermic needle to "prick" the finger rather than the test kit lancets - the problem with this is the lancet controls the depth, while using a needle they were pushing it in much deeper, and it hurt like hell! My fingers were bruised from this, and they were very reluctant to use my test pricker!

One of the surgery team came to speak to me prior to the procedure, to ensure I understood the risks involved, and warned me that worst case scenario (well, second worst case as death is always a risk with major surgery!) was that I could also lose my right arm. They already knew that the scapula (shoulderblade) would have to be removed, but if the tumour had attached to my humerus (upper arm) as well, they would have to remove that too, and also there was a possibility that the skin covering Chip was too badly damaged so I would need a skin graft, taken from my stomach, to replace that. As with everything else I accepted this with good humour - what else could I do? Whatever transpired I had to live with, as I could not carry on without getting the surgery.

December 8, 2020 - 4 weeks before surgery

The day, Tuesday, of the surgery arrived and I was prepped in the ward - with my shoulder and stomach (in case they needed to take the skin graft) shaved - and then taken down to the operating theatre.

In the operating theatre before surgery.

The next thing I was aware of was coming round in recovery, and I recall I was "growling" as my throat was so dry. They wouldn't give me anything to drink, but after a while allowed me to suck on a small gauze square, which did nothing to allay my raging thirst, though eventually they did give me a tiny beaker of water. My first action was to try and wiggle the fingers on my right hand, and, with some relief, discovered I still had the use of them, meaning I still had my right arm as well. My stomach was exposed, so no skin taken for a skin graft, and a while later the English-speaking surgeon appeared to tell me all had gone very well. They had removed over 7kgs of tissue, including 5.23 kgs of tumour, which had been sent for pathology!

Surprisingly I felt no pain at all in the following days and weeks and even until today, 18 months on, which was because they had removed or killed off the nerve endings, which do not appear to have regenerated. It was quite bizarre to have them change dressings and clean the wound, and not be able to feel a thing - except for the rip of the plaster which extended beyond the immediate surgery site! In the following days I was repeatedly being asked if I required additional pain relief, but since I could feel nothing (even though I was half expecting at any moment for the sensation to return!) I declined, leading them to nickname me "El ruso" - The Russian (presumably they consider Russians to be tough as nails!). I had my phone with me - they gave all my valuables to Carmen for safekeeping as I went into surgery - so managed to update my daughter (and Facebook) after my return to the ward.

I remained in hospital for a further 6 days before being discharged and the only thing of note was that the canula they inserted in my groin - in case I had needed the transfusion - started leaking, leaving me with a huge bruise on the back of my left thigh, and a colourless liquid staining my clothing and the bed. They had left it in "just in case", but that almost caused a further complication!

Carmen helped me leave the hospital and return to my flat in Huanchaco and I could never have coped those first days without her help. She did my shopping, though at my bidding just chopped vegetables and fruit for me, so I could try and cook, and discovered that I could manage that myself. For the next 3 months she came round at least twice a day to change the dressing on my shoulder, at times breaking curfew to do so.

This was taken on April 14, 2021. We asked a doctor to come and check the dressing, and Carmen took this once the hospital provided dressing was removed. 8 days after surgery and everything was healing brilliantly, apart from a small opening where the two incisions met. The drains are clearly visible under the wound.

I am a fiercely independent person, and was very conscious of the amount of Carmen's time I was taking up, so tried to get her to cut that back. She had a family of her own - grown up - and also worked part-time for a charity, and did some other private work, so I tried to do my own shopping (initially ordering in heavier things I could not carry from the shops), but I still needed her to change the dressings, so still needed quite a bit of help.

On April 30, 2021, I had an appointment at the hospital to see if the stitches and drain could be removed, so Carmen came along - ostensibly to translate if needed (my Spanish was adequate!), but also as she wanted to see how it was done.

April 30 - before the stitches were removed. The dark area where the incisions met was necrotic tissue (scab) and the surgeon decided to remove this.

Left edge of the wound - healing extremely well

Bottom of the vertical incision, and the drain holes - all appeared to be healing very well

Where the two incisions met - the horizontal and vertical incisions - there was some evidence of necrotic tissue, scabbing, so the surgeon decided to excise that with a scalpel (could not feel a thing, thankfully) revealing a large opening in the wound.

Although this looks pretty horrible it was not infected, but it did provide an alternative drain for excess fluids.

The surgeon showed Carmen how to dress this wound, and prescribed medication to use, and this was required twice-daily until I left for the UK in July - and still had not fully closed! The biggest issue here was that this "hole" now became the drain for any fluids, and as well as the dressing it had to be covered with absorbent material - and adult incontinence pads proved to be the most successful at this.

May 15, looking much better, but still closing very slowly

I was having regular follow-up appointments at the hospital as well as Carmen's ministrations, and was even referred to a plastic surgeon to see if he could do anything about closing the wound, though he said he would have to cut the original scar open to get enough skin to close the wound, and if they were intending to do any reconstruction of the shoulder he felt it better to wait for this. As it turned out on my final hospital appointment in June the traumatologist (lead surgeon) admitted that they could do no more for me in Peru, and advised me to return to the UK (the borders were finally open for international travel) to continue treatment.

I will cover the preparations for departure in another post, but I finally arrived in the UK on July 2, 2021, and entered the quarantine hotel (also to be covered later!), but despite twice-weekly dressing changes after I arrived at my daughter's on July 13, it took until September for the wound to finally close completely - the medication used here in the UK was much more effective at actively closing the wound.

September 7 - wound finally closed, and scars looking very healthy

Surgery had been performed 2 years and one month after I first discovered Chip, and the wound finally closed 5 months after surgery. Quite an adventure, but I remained positive throughout - many have been surprised by my attitude, but I just felt I had no choice - I had to keep going, and I had to find a way to cope. Yes, my life has changed - I am right-handed and can no longer use my right arm, though can use the hand - but I am managing quite well, and realise that I am fortunate in that millions of people are in much worse predicaments than I am. It was difficult getting initial treatment due to my blood sugar levels, and then the Covid pandemic shutting everything down, but once I was able to see a doctor in Peru in September 2020 things started to move reasonably quickly, and I am pleased with the outcome - and the specialists here in the UK were very impressed with the treatment I received in Peru. Total cost of all the treatment, including the diabetes control, which was essential in getting the surgery performed, was around £4000, with over £2500 of that being directly attributable to medical costs regarding Chip. That does not, however, include the taxi fares for the innumerable trips to the hospital, or for tests elsewhere, which probably raise the total by at least £500!

Being ill abroad - part 5

 Unfortunately this was a false start! I was fully expecting to come out of surgery with no more Chip, but when I came round the surgeon told me they decided to simple take a deep tissue biopsy. This meant that I was able to go home the following day as I only had a very small wound on my shoulder, but I was rather annoyed that this meant another long wait before further treatment.

In early January I was called back in for the biopsy results, and they confirmed that Chip was a chondrosarcoma, and that surgery would be scheduled as soon as possible. The first date I was given was cancelled as the lead surgeon's father passed away due to Covid, and he was on an extended leave of absence, and I had a long wait for a new date. Eventually I was told that surgery would take place on April 6, 2021, and given a new list of pre-admission tests I would need - but as always things in Peru never go according to plan!

I was told to come in on April 1 and would be admitted as an emergency cancer patient, so had to report to the oncology department at 9.00. I then had to undergo pre-admission procedure, including a Covid test, blood tests, ECG, and was told I would also need an x-ray, a CT scan, and an off-site MRI scan (which they would take me to after admission).  After several hours the head of oncology, who I had met previously and spoke perfect English, came to speak to me. There were no beds available, and also 5 days prior to surgery he felt it was too soon for all the tests I had already had - which were supposed to be 48-72 hours prior to surgery! - so he sent me home, telling me to return as a normal admission on Saturday April 3 before 15.00. I was told I needed to have blood tests before admission, as well as the MRI (which they cannot so on-site), and they would arrange the x-rays after admission, so decided to get the blood work done in Trujillo prior to the booked MRI (the hospital booked it for me as I couldn't get one done that quickly!). I arrived in Trujillo at 8.30 (the blood tests and the MRI were fasting, so no breakfast yet), to find a monster queue already outside the blood testing centre! I had plenty of time so joined the queue, but suddenly my phone rang.

It was the hospital - "Where are you?" I explained I was waiting for blood tests and then would get the MRI before going to the hospital. They told me I had to go there immediately as I needed the x-ray. I told them they said that would be arranged after admission, but they insisted I went there straight away as it had to be done prior to admission! I got a taxi to the hospital and went straight to x-ray - blood tests are only done until 9.00 at the hospital, so I was already too late for this, but there was an independent centre across the road so I had them done there, before catching a taxi back home to collect my bag before heading for the MRI! It was all now a manic dash to get things done, whereas before I had everything in hand!

I took a taxi back into Trujillo and had the MRI - then there was a 90 minute wait for the results. They will email the details, but the "plates" have to be collected, and the hospital needed these, but I had to collect them at 13.00 - so still plenty of time to get them before admission prior to 15.00! As I hadn't eaten - it was now about midday - I looked for a local eatery, but I was carrying my admission bag, as well as a pillow this time, and the closest restaurants were all closed (still Covid restrictions in Peru), though eventually found one open and ordered a meal. Then my phone rang again - "Where are you? You should be here!" I explained that I had to wait for the MRI scans and had to have some food as well, but would be there as soon as possible. "You have to be here by 15.00!" 

I had my lunch, walked back to the MRI centre, and only had a couple of minutes to wait for the test scans, and caught a taxi. It was now about 13.00 and maybe 20 minutes away from the hospital, but again my phone rang! "Where are you?" Upon arrival at the hospital they rushed me through to admission, and found me a chair inside the entrance to the ward - and I sat there until after 16.00 before finally being admitted to the ward, having rushed around all day due to them, when I thought I initially had everything in hand!