No bliss

I had tickets to see 'Bliss' at Belvoir Street but felt anything but blissful as I drove to the theatre. My nose was running, my throat felt like sand paper and I was coughing regularly.

I sat in my car thinking that somehow I would be able to get through the performance but that was wishful, not blissful, thinking. Apart from spreading my cold across the audience I would be a complete nuisance for those sitting around me.

I didn't get out of my car. I drove home where I should have remained all along.

No bliss for me.

Poo, poo to that....

C talks a lot of shit. Or rather he talks a lot about shit. His own shit actually. C studies his own poo closely from which he develops theories about his state of health. I suppose there is nothing wrong with that except that I don't understand his need to share his findings so often. Or indeed, at all.

When I was in New York in March I saw a novelty booklet entitled 'What your poo means' (or words to that effect). I couldn't resist and I bought a copy back as a present for C. I wasn't sure how C would react to this present but he seemed to take in good spirit. I noticed he spent a long time reading it afterwards.

Later I wondered if I had been too sensitive to this practice of C's. But I believe I have been vindicated. C recently returned from a long weekend away with his niece. He told me that half way through the weekend she turned to him and said 'Uncle C I don't mind you checking out your poo but please don't tell me about it all the time'.

Shit happens.

First impressions

I had my first appointment with Doctor D today. First impressions are favourable and I think I have chosen well. He looks as nice and welcoming as his Bio and photograph on the Practice's website suggest. He was thorough and non judgemental in obtaining my details and history and he expressed his interest to retain me as his patient.

As Bogie once said (in character), this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Carry on Doctor

I was a patient of Doctor H for more than twenty years. I selected him from his advertisement in a gay newspaper as I preferred to have a doctor who would not be judgemental about my sexuality. Younger readers (if there are any) may not realise that homosexuality was illegal when I was younger and not something you could readily reveal to your Doctor thus exposing your health management to misdiagnosis or similar through absence of essential and possibly relevant information.

Anyway, I was quite satisfied with Doctor H as my GP but a couple years ago he decided to make a major change in his life departing his practice and moving overseas, apparently indefinitely. Doctor C took over Doctor H's practice. Doctor C seemed a good replacement but I learned that he was managing three separate practices across Sydney and would only be available at my location on Fridays. I wasn't happy with this limited opportunity for face to face consultations and so, after thinking about it for all those months, I decided to seek another practice nearby.

Just two blocks away is a trendy looking practice and it has about a dozen GPs to choose from. 'Which one do you want to see?' the receptionist asked when I enquired about signing up with them. I didn't know; I hadn't researched that part. I referred to the GP biographies on their website and identified three preferences with the mix of health interests and specialities to suit my needs. Of the three I dismissed Doctor M as an option. Oh yes, he is the most handsome of the group - good looks always makes me feel better, no matter how ill I might feel - but I recognised him as a celebrity television doctor and...well... they have other celebrity related issues on their mind. Despite the eye candy possibilities I reduced the choice to two. Doctor B and Doctor D. The former offered limited days of consultancy whilst the latter offers the widest availability. So Doctor D it will be.

First appointment made for next week.

I’m decayed

I’m very diligent about attending the dentist for a check up every 6 months or so. I don’t want my teeth to fall into such disrepair that I would need dentures. In recent years, despite my dangerously sweet tooth, I have maintained good dental hygiene and not needed any new fillings. Unfortunately the last check up brought an end to that. The X-ray revealed ‘some decay’ in a tooth. Worse still the decay was awkwardly located in a tooth which itself was in an awkward position.

The work was done yesterday. Forty minutes in the chair, two needles and what felt like a tunnel load of equipment clogging my mouth. Apparently the decay reached below the gum line Dr U informed me in a menacing tone.

I've succumbed

I got through 'The Rover' but finally have succumbed to my cold missing out on seeing 'Cloud Nine' tonight.

The cough is mostly under control but my nose is running and running. I think it could win an Olympic Marathon so persistent is the malady.

Off to bed after a hot tea with lemon and honey.

Should I?

I have a theatre date today.

At the Belvoir Theatre where my bum hurts after just 45 minutes of sitting and today's play runs 3 hours 30 minutes including interval!

Plus I have an irritating cough and my nose is running. My cough will annoy everyone else, not just me.

Should I go?

I have just under six hours to decide.

Eye, Eye, Sir

I haven't had any response yet to my letter of complaint to my health insurers about their online booking service, or more accurately non-service.

My eye examination was yesterday. It went well.

There is only the slightest change to my left eye and none to my right eye. The variation from the previous examination, two years ago, is minimal and there is no need for me to get new spectacles.

There is no evidence of macular degeneration. No evidence of cataracts. My eye pressure is 'excellent'.

All is well on the 'eye front'.

BUPA pooper

BUPA your service sucks.

A few years back the British based international healthcare group BUPA took over the health insurance company I belonged to for all my adult life.

A couple of weeks ago BUPA wrote to me advising that it was time for my 24 month eye examination. It invited me to make an appointment either by phone or online. The online instructions appeared simple and clear;

• Step 1 Visit www.bupaoptical.com.au
• Step 2 Click the 'Book and Appointment' link and the follow the steps

I followed those steps precisely nominating my appointment time at the Bondi Junction Optical Shop - the very shop referred to in BUPA's letter to me - from a schedule on the online site of half hourly times which commenced from 9am on the date I selected.

Within seconds I received an email from BUPA Optical Bondi Junction thanking me for my appointment request and continuing as follows;

'The team at Bupa Optical Bondi Junction look forward to serving your eyecare needs and will be in touch via phone or email to confirm your appointment.'

Twelve days later, with no email or phone contact from BUPA, I called into the Bondi Junction shop to confirm my appointment. The staff member checked and told me they had no record of my request; notwithstanding the email confirmation.

How can this be? Well, this is what she told me.

• The online booking system is not a 'live' site.
• The shop does not receive the data entered online.
• The times shown in the online site are not the actual times available for appointments but the hours the shop is open. (This comment makes no sense since the site lists half hourly slots.)
• Although the shop opens at 9am (or perhaps it is 9.30, that was not clear to me) eye examinations are not available until 11am.
• Earlier time slots for examinations are only available on Saturday hence are very popular and have to be booked far ahead.
• Her final advice was to book examinations by contacting the shop directly, not online.

Why, BUPA, do you send letters out inviting online booking when the online system is not active?
Why, BUPA, do you refer members to an online site that has appointment slots that don't exist in reality?
Why, BUPA, do you send email acknowledgements of online appointment requests when those requests die in cyberspace unrecognised and unknown to your shops?
Why, BUPA, do you not have eye examination timeslots that your working members can attend outside of their working hours or that your members can attend with minimal disruption to their work arrangements?

Why, BUPA, should I continue my membership with your organisation?

Brisbane

Yes, once again I am in Brisbane. A belated Christmas come New Year reunion with good friends dating back from our days on posting together in Beijing. A friendship now more than thirty five years old.

One of the main events organised for this gathering was a couple of nights attending the Brisbane International tennis tournament. For some years MT has wanted us to spend time in Melbourne at the Australian Open tournament but this always looked too expensive for some of our Brisbane based friends. Having caucused unsuccessfully about a Melbourne visit MT last year suggested the Brisbane alternative and this was agreed to and organised.

In one of life's ironies MT fell quite ill and was hospitalised last weekend on the eve of our gathering. She has missed out entirely on this visit of which she was the principal architect. She has been discharged from hospital and appears to be on the mend but her doctor vetoed her travel and so she has ended up watching the tennis from home on television instead. At her insistence we've had to describe the colour of the clothes we are wearing so she can pick us out in the crowd scenes. Unsurprisingly she has not seen us on either night.

It was of some little consolation to MT that the seats she booked for us were excellent. Here is the view we had on the first night;

We saw Bernard Tomic play Radek Stepanek. Local 'boy' Tomic won but his performance was not exactly stellar. However the play was very close and the likely outcome looked uncertain until the final points.

RS, who ate sushi purchased at the courts, fell violently ill the next day with food poisoning. Our reunion was starting to look jinxed!

The next night - and with a substitute attendee for the recovering RS - we had these seats. Just a little to the right of where we had sat the previous night and still a very good view.

This time we watched Roger Federer play Tobias Kamke. The quality of play - especially from Federer - was a class above what was on show the earlier night but the match itself was less interesting simply because the tension of wondering who would win was absent. Nonetheless it was a treat to see a champion player performing in the flesh.

None of us purchased sushi for dinner this night.

I'm returning to Sydney tomorrow.

In flew enza

Oh yes, a droll joke in the title line.

My friend Cs is recovering from a severe bout of influenza that has had him housebound for over two weeks. This despite him having received the flu vaccination this winter. He also experienced conjunctivitis to add to his discomfort.

My bridge partner Ce has also succumbed to the illness (conjunctivitis included) and we have missed the last three bridge sessions as a consequence.

The two of them have not been in each other's presence so something obviously is 'going around' generally in Sydney.

Would you like a heart attack with that?

First off, some admissions. I periodically succumb to fast food options. I am overweight; albeit not morbidly so. I am active but could (should) do more in the way of exercise.

Notwithstanding the above, I am the pot that is going to call four young kettles black.

Yesterday I was at a certain fast food establishment. I won't name it but you will recognise it as;

There was one queue and it was blocked by the extensive meal orders of four school students. I don't know what they were ordering nor the quantities but their order was taking so long that a second queue was opened for everyone else.

These student are Pacific Islanders. They would be no older than about 15 or 16 at the most and they are huge. I mean really huge. The 'boy' is taller than me. I am about 182cm. He would weigh 140 kilos plus. The three 'girls' are shorter than me but not by very much. Each of them would weigh 110 kilos plus.

I assume they have not yet grown to their full adult builds. How big will they be when they achieve their full adult builds?

With my own bad habits I'm not in a strong position to criticise but at almost 66 I am in pretty reasonable health.

Do the four students I saw yesterday have a reasonable prospect of reaching 66? I fear not. At their age I was a tall, skinny lad weighing about 60 kilos. At 18 I actually failed the medical for a Government job for being underweight! Maybe these four have medical conditions that account for their size but otherwise I am sad for their future.

Weather to the rescue

The awful weather on which I commented yesterday appears to be abating a little this morning but is still unpleasant enough to be a major problem.

However I have reason to be thankful for it today. The Nursing Home where I volunteer on Wednesdays has deemed conditions to be too dangerous to load and unload the participants for Day Care who are transported from/to their homes by bus.

So, I have been given the day off.

A day off my feet. Some relief for my Fasciitis.

I don't want to know

Getting older is an education. I'm learning new health conditions every time I visit the doctor.

My latest lesson is Fasciitis.

That's the condition which has suddenly and painfully affected my right heel. I limped around the hospital today.

Some education is less than welcome.

A difference of two

How annoying is a difference of two? Two tablets in a packet, that is.

I am prescribed four medications a day by my GP, to control or prevent certain conditions.

All four medications come in the form of tablets. Three of these medications come in packets of thirty tablets but the other medication comes in a packet of twenty-eight. Each month that 'other' medication runs out first and because I top up all four medications at the same time over a period of a few months my supply of medications gets all out of kilter.

Of course I could manage my supply differently by purchasing only that 'other' medication every few months or so but why isn't there a standard multiple of tablets per packet? What difference does two make?

Siblings

I am an only child. At times of great happiness or distress I wonder how it would feel to share that experience with a sibling. Once when sitting alone in an Emergency Ward, doctors asked me do I want my mother resuscitated should the condition for which she had just been admitted deteriorate I keenly wished I had a sibling with whom to discuss the issue. But I don't have a sibling and never will so it is idle thought.

I have always assumed that if there had been a sibling that we would remain on good terms for life. I don't know why I am so certain about this given the example of my mother who became estranged from her only sibling for the last twenty or so years of her life.

I know three sisters with whom I have been close friends for over forty years. We have socialised together, travelled together, cried together and laughed together. Following the deaths of their parents they started to see me as a brother, the older brother they never had. Sadly after decades of close association two of the three sisters (middle and youngest) have fallen out with each other rather badly. Group socialising involving these two has become impossible. I continue to be on good terms with all three sisters but middle and youngest sister remain resolutely estranged.

Today at her invitation I met middle sister for lunch to see photos of her recent overseas trip. I mentioned my forthcoming overseas trip and she asked with whom I would be travelling. This I knew would be sensitive. Truthfully I told middle sister my travelling companion will be her estranged youngest sibling. Clearly neither oldest nor youngest sister had told middle sister of the travel plans.

Middle sister went very quiet, then whispered. 'I wish you hadn't told me this.' 'I'm having difficulty with this.' 'I wanted to do that trip.' And then she left. No further conversation, no lunch. Is our friendship over? I hope not.

I rang youngest sister and left a message informing her of what had happened.

I was left with a sick feeling in my stomach; quite upset. Is this the reality of what it is to have a sibling?

Postscript: within an hour of this exchange there has been a serious development possibly of a mental health nature which I won't go into at this time.

Footsies

I visited the podiatrist today, an appointment I have every six to eight weeks. I have problem feet. I need to wear orthotics to improve my balance and without them my feet become sore if I have to spend even a moderate amount of time walking or standing. I've been attending the same Podiatry practice for about ten years now.

I suppose over that time I've been treated by about half a dozen different Podiatrists. All of them have been young; that is, aged in their 20s or 30s.

A 'model' Podiatrist from Newcastle University

None has been the senior, revered General Practitioner type of my youth. I'm not complaining, some of the men who have treated me have been almost as good looking as the smiling fellow above.

But I wonder why it is that someone fresh from school, or of similar age, decides that playing around with feet for the rest of their lives is the career for them? I don't think that any of my practitioners has been a foot fetishist as such. It's an interesting career choice but not one I would ever have contemplated.

I am curious, yellow

I've been taking a course of vitamins. They are intended for men aged 65 years and over. According to the label the vitamins help support men 'meet their nutritional needs and maintain general wellbeing'.

I don't feel any different taking the tablets. I have no idea if they have any effect on me whatsoever except in one respect. After taking a tablet my urine is a very distinctive colour. Yellow. Bright yellow. Very bright yellow.

Sore throat

Look up 'sore throat' on Google Images and you will see a lot of rather gross images of...well...sore throats. I was looking for an image of a good looking male with a sore throat to illustrate this post but I didn't find any. I scrolled through many screens of 'sore throat' images until I reached this one...

...what does it have do with sore throats? I think, I'm not sure but I think, the band is playing a song called 'sore throat'. It will have to do.

With wilful, typical timing, nature - or someone - has given me a sore throat and cough on the eve of my overseas holiday which will involve many hours spent in aeroplanes. It is an itchy, dry cough, most annoying and has evolved into laryngitis and cough. Friends in as disparate locations as Brisbane have been laid low with similar symptoms. I am taking medication.

This happens to me too often. 'Big trip coming up?' 'Here, take a cold/cough with you.'

The longest of the flights is the first leg, this Saturday. Thirteen hours and forty minutes to Los Angeles. Subsequent flights will be five hours and thirty minutes to New York, eight hours and ten minutes to Helsinki, a mere three hours and five minutes to London, an even shorter two hours and fifty minutes back to Helsinki, nine hours and fifty minutes to Hong Kong and finally nine hours and twenty minutes home to Sydney.

Lots of opportunities for me to pass my sore throat on to others, lots of opportunities to catch a sore throat back from others.

I don't want to play.....

Groucho Marx

Groucho Marx was a brilliant exponent of the one liner ad-lib. One of many of his ad-libs that has always appealed to me is 'I don’t want to belong to any club that would have me as a member'. The exact wording of this ad-lib and its context remains uncertain but that he made a statement to this effect is not in dispute.

My mind turned to Groucho's comment after an exchange with my bridge partner tonight. Having picked up my bridge partner for the drive to the club I was asked about my day. I replied that I had woken with a cough but before I could add that the cough had cleared my bridge partner responded sharply 'well what are you doing here tonight'. An icy chill descended in the car and I could tell that my bridge partner was fuming at the thought that I was spreading germs around.

At the first set of traffic lights bridge partner turned to me and asked to be taken home. 'I don't want to be getting sick from your cough' explained bridge partner even though I hadn't coughed at all during the drive.

I wasn't going to argue. I don't want to play bridge with a partner who doesn't want to catch my cough, I thought.