It’s a glum bum day

I was intending to share the whole peritoneal dialysis fluid exchange procedure today – I mean it may come in handy one day – there could a question in a quiz – if it involves a lot of money though remember where you read the answer!

Instead though I decided to do a crafty post to brighten me up as the weather, Bud and my mood turned glum as the day went on.  Actually with me it’s more tired and has nothing at all to do with a late night and early morning!  With the weather it started all bright, sunny and quite warm this morning (as evidenced by no coat needed when Bud pressured me into taking him for a wander in the wood) but by lunch time it was bucketing it down and all gloomy.  With Bud its the fact that B didn’t take him for his regular walk – due to the weather!  In fact it was Bud’s expression when he realised he wasn’t getting a proper trip out that made me think of the word glum – he sat there with the most pathetic look on his face and looked a right ‘glum bum’.

I needed a quick baby pattern to knit for one of the ward nurses who was leaving to have a baby – funnily enough.  As I’d got some aran weight cotton in I decided to give Trellis another go. I altered one of the cable patterns into a more conventional four stitch cable rather than a travelling twisted stitch…

and repeated the cable on the hat with moss stitch in between.

It got Cairngorm Reindeer Herd buttons – I don’t know what I’m going to do when these run out.

The whole cardigan is knit on 4.5 mm needles with no increases once past the ‘rib’ but this results in the following…

so on the fronts and sleeves I reduced the cast on stitches only by two or three and then put then back before I started cabling and this sorted out the wibble.

I’ve also finished my latest bits and pieces afghan which turned out a ‘bit’ bigger than I was aiming for at 84 cm x 152 cm (33″ x 60″).

That photo doesn’t really do it justice so here’s some others…

Chris, the friend who was partly responsible for my late night yesterday, said the pink and blue centred rectangle above was her favourite or wait, was it the purple and purple one?  I don’t know now – she liked a lot of them.  What we both liked though was how using the yarn like this enabled colours that you wouldn’t necessarily put together to work – well we thought so.

I had thought this would use up all my outstanding ‘bits and pieces’ and I could bin the remnants but I still have too many to throw away with a clear conscience.  Since I need a trip to The Knitting Centre before I can start the next batch of things I’m making I started another blanket to use up absolutely all of them.

I’m doing a single alternating row of four different colours (if that makes sense) and intend to just carry on until each colour runs out and then add in another one.

As you can see it results in a lovely tangle of wool – me no likey that at all.

Now although this way of doing things should also let me put all sorts of colour combinations together I think this one may be too BRIGHT.

And it’s not even my Myeloma UK Myeloma Buddy orange – this one is nearly flourescent – I’d love to know what the rest of the ball made.

Now I need to get an early night as I have my big day out tomorrow.  B said to me before ‘Will you be taking your anti sickness tablets?’  I said ‘Yes’.  Then he said ‘What about anti ageing ones?’ I said something that can’t be repeated in polite company.

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Tightening your tush!

My back pain and I reached an amicable understanding recently. I’d give it copious amounts of paracetamol and Tramadol along with not doing anything to knowingly upset it and it would, for quite large areas of time, generally leave me alone. Of course spending nearly two weeks on holiday in the Royal made it easier for me to uphold my side of the bargain as there’s not really much I can get up to in hospital that would cause it to complain – as long as I take the painkillers that is. I tried to reduce them during my stay in February and ended up aching.

Its surprising how quickly you can get use to being ‘comfortable’ and how quickly you take it for granted and how you only realise this when you do something to contravene the peace treaty and give the back pain cause to complain. In this particular instance I did something that I didn’t even consider would result in a protest – I decided I wanted a tighter tush.

When I wash my hands before doing the peritoneal dialysis (PD) fluid exchange I need to count to 10 or 20 while doing various things. On Saturday I thought I could take advantage of this to do some leg raises or even squats (the leg raises won out). Its not like they result in a big movement – standing on one leg and lifting the other backwards and doing the same thing with the leg bent – but do allegedly result in a shapely behind. I figured three or four times a day and in no time I’d have a behind that I’d be quite happy to have out in front.  Yet this little bit of leg lifting has upset my back pain and I may have made it a tad worse yesterday when I decided that my sewing room needed to look more like a sewing room again than a PD room.

When the initial supplies arrived I stored away from sight as much as was convenient. I realised it wouldn’t be practical to hide absolutely everything and couldn’t decide what to do with the bags of fluid. I tried putting them in one of the plastic ‘drawers’ but it turned out that Arnold Schwarzenegger would have had trouble getting it out, so I thought I’d see how it went with them. By Sunday this is how it was going…

I felt I needed to tidy it up. So following a slight rearrangement of the wardrobe in that room to make space for a box of fluid it looked like this…

Better – well I think so. Now I just need to have a proper sort out of the wardrobe and the rest of the stuff stored in the room probably as I didn’t so much find a space to put one of the boxes in as make a space by moving other stuff around ie, bunging it in the glory-hole and find some sort of attractive receptacle to put my BRIGHT YELLOW waste bag in.

So after this little bit of tidying yesterday and getting tea (I mean cooking spaghetti and warming up some pre-made frozen sauce) I felt like a nap but broke one of my cardinal rules – if you feel like a sleep have one – or you’ll feel worse later. As a result of no kipping I felt quite tired today. I mean I know that I tire easily at the minute but still I didn’t take a little nappy-poo – the next PD exchange was due in half an hour so after that I thought, then B went to work and Bud wouldn’t settle possibly after having B off last week so I entertained him, a friend phoned and it was time to do another exchange before bed.

It was so nice having B at home last week so much so that when he was going to work tonight I suggested he should take his redundancy and stay home with me or rather us. The first week I was in the Royal B’s company announced that the depot would be closing by the end of the year and three smaller transit depots would be opened – at least one being closer to home – and there may be jobs available at an existing warehouse the other side of Manchester. I’d originally told B that in my opinion he should hang in there and see if he got a job in Liverpool or Warrington and if he didn’t like it he could always take his redundancy at that point.

Tea time today I read a text from an Armchair Yoga friend about a couple who are part of the group.  Mrs found out last Wednesday that her cancer was now really serious and she had a matter of months and on Thursday Mr went and had a massive heart attack and died. Seriously – WTF!

So where I’d gone from telling B to stay at work, and not just for the money but also because I think its probably good for him to mix with people where the topic of conversation doesn’t at some point touch on myeloma or dialysis, this news made me want to be totally selfish and just spend more relaxed time together.  He responded that I should be careful what I suggested as he might just do that.

Mind you that might pan out quite well since despite not having actually worked in over 12 months I am still technically employed however I received a letter last week saying that the typists were being absorbed into other areas of the business.  As I wasn’t in on the telephone conference and haven’t received anything more personal than this letter from HR I don’t know where exactly this puts me. Although this might explain why I received a form from work a few weeks ago requesting my permission for them to obtain a medical report even though it said they usually asked for one after five months.

Crafting with geriatrics

I felt so much better on Wednesday than I had on Tuesday, so much so that I was early for an appointment – 24 hours early!

The local hospice do therapy days which a friend (with myeloma) had started attending so I got myself referred.  The appointment for the nursing assessment was one thirty so we thought we’d go there and then go straight to the Royal just for bloods and it turned out platelets.  On the way there I asked B what the date was and informed him that I thought my appointment was actually Thursday.  As we weren’t that far away we thought we’d see when we got there.  Lo and behold we were indeed early but since they’d has a no show they fit us in.

The nurse we saw showed us round and outlined the schedule and what was available as well as discussing medical history.  I’d thought I was being so smart taking a copy of my discharge medications with me – obviously it would have appeared a lot smarter if I’d got the day right.  And do you know what B said to me and then again to the nurse, that he should take over checking the appointment schedule so that we got them right – with my memory ‘issues’ I wasn’t reliable!  Needless to say the second word was off – not in front of the nurse of course, he just got a ‘look’ then.

They do crafty stuff at the therapy days and we were shown the art room.  Now you’d think that I, of all people, would have been really excited to see this and I was before I went but standing in the room I wasn’t too keen.  I’m not sure why.  I mean I’ve even considered joining a knitting club or something similar but haven’t come across anything with a suitable time.  We saw some nice painted stones, decorated glasses, jewelry boxes, mosaics and some cardboard shapes pinned to a notice board with words on them that must have been what people thought they got from being there – and it put me off.  I thought it was all a bit ‘forced’ – that’s not really the right word for the job and obviously people go there for various reasons including to feel better by doing something creative.

The nurse described it as a day to be pampered – there is a relaxation time, you can sign up for massages and other complimentary therapies, there are physios and a three course lunch with wine – not that I drink.  The nurse asked me if there was anything I did, such as hobbies, that made me feel better if I was feeling down to which I responded that I don’t really feel down.  Yes, knitting, crocheting, sewing makes me feel me but it always has and is a barometer of how I’m feeling but from a physical point of view rather than mental and is a way of life rather than a hobby.  Bud obviously makes me feel really happy. 

Basically I think the problem was that walking round there made me feel like a patient in a way that going to the hospital, doing the peritoneal dialysis or walking round with a distinct lack of hair on my head don’t – I actually kind of forget I have a limited amount of hair until I see someone look at me for a bit longer than expected.

Anyhoo, I’m giving it a whirl and will be going this coming Thursday.  B’s not too convinced either not least because when we came out of the assessment room we encountered the Wednesday group and he doesn’t think I’ll fit in too well with a bunch of octogenarians.  Now I have a lot of friends who are older than me, and love spending time with my Auntie Eleanor who is in her 80s, but the one thing they have in common is that they have a young outlook on life whereas I have to admit the group we saw on Wednesday, who appeared to have an average age of 103, didn’t look too lively.  B actually said it would suit his mother better than me!

 

Getting immoral with rumps

I think I may have done something, if not illegal, then certainly immoral with some rump steak – I made steak and onions.  Now this may be perfectly acceptable with some high folotting celebrity chef but I was brought up to make steak and onions, hotpot and such like with stewing steak and as it seems to be labelled now braising steak.

B had asked constantly today what I wanted for my tea and I had absolutely no idea.  Well okay, it was probably about twice but seemed a lot more.  At lunch he started to suggest things and at the point where he said soup I had to say ‘I think you should stop mentioning food or I’m gonna throw up’.  Later in the afternoon he nipped out for some milk and wanted to know again – but although I don’t feel queasy all the time I don ‘t feel particularly like eating.  B asked should he get some bread but the thought of bread turned my stomach at the time – indeed yesterday I made up some barm cakes for B but had some Ryvitas myself – just as well really since it turned out the barm cakes I’d used had a use by date of the 28th!

So tea time-ish today I went into the kitchen and looked at the rump steak in the fridge and thought ‘I couldn’t eat that fried but I could eat it in steak and onions’ so that’s what I did with it – I have to admit without chopping it into smaller pieces – I just wopped it in a pan to brown and then covered it with stock – chicken as we were out of beef.  B peeled the potatoes and we had it with mash and what I managed to eat stayed down unlike Sunday’s cottage pie.

It was, in B’s opinion, excellent.  He wasn’t being immodest as he hadn’t made it.  I decided to tackle the mince meat while B was out walking with Bud.  I donned a pair of disposable gloves and tackled the carrots and onion – better safe than sorry on the bacteria front.  B again peeled the potatoes for the topping and I remembered to do some veg to accompany it, unlike tonight’s meal.  I was enjoying it when suddenly I felt the urge to hurl and B passed me the poop bag lined sick bowl that’s stowed at the side of the settee just in time.  I did manage to finish off what was on my plate once I’d been sick.

Buddy has a reaction to seeing a sick bowl – he gets all anxious.  In this instance B passed me the bowl and before I’d even ejected the cottage pie Bud was up off his mat and over near the curtains looking at me funny.  I think it’s because his reaction is to come check I’m okay but it results in B telling him to get on his mat and when he doesn’t do it immediately B gets louder while I try and slope off to the stairs so I’m not throwing up in front of B while he’s trying to finish his food.   So it’s got to the point where I just have to move a sick bowl and Bud reacts.

Other than being a bit off my food I’ve still felt reasonably alright.  I have felt particularly tired today and didn’t go to armchair yoga this afternoon as I just didn’t have the energy/enthusiasm.  It had taken me the best part of an hour to go upstairs to set up the printer to work wirelessly – and in fact must have been fatigued as I didn’t even have the energy to threaten the netbook/printer when it didn’t work straight away.

I’ve also been a bit bunged up.  I thought that once I was home I’d start being regular again – isn’t this a lovely subject?  It was so hard to go in the Royal especially on the toilet I ended up using from my cupboard.  More people walked past the door than go through Heathrow in the length of a day.  Plus at Heathrow you don’t get people stood outside with drip machines beeping while you’re trying to ‘concentrate’.  I think I’ve taken enough laxatives to clear out a rhino but obviously need to increase them to take care of an elephant.  I wouldn’t usually be too concerned but in light of the need to go really regularly with the peritoneal dialysis I thought I better act sooner rather than later, particularly as the fluid I drained first thing this morning was a bit low which can be caused by constipation.

Meanwhile, although I really haven’t done anything today, I have previously finished off some things I did during my recent stay at the Royal.

I’ve added buttons to the aran jacket…

Sewn the ends in on the baby blanket made in the same aran (worsted) weight yarn…

Again this is from Comfort Knitting and Crochet Afghans.

Sorted out the ends on a granny square afghan for the crèche/hospital in South Africa at one of our GP’s receptionist’s husbands is involved with…

and cracked on with the other one I started…

I am really liking this and think the cream round the two centre squares and then again round the resulting rectangles ties it all together nicely.  I think I need to add nine more rectangles to get it to an acceptable size – which should just about clear all the tiny balls of double knitting yarn that I have left or have been given.  This is just as well as I need more storage in my sewing room for all my new peritoneal dialysis stuff.  I mean I do have room but I wanted to tidy hide as much of it away as possible so that the back room doesn’t make it look like there’s someone sick in the house!

 

I’m not getting dressed

B called back a decorator/builder this morning and he’s calling out any time now to give us a quote for some work and I’ve decided I’m not getting dressed.  I’d thought about getting out of my jim jams this morning and decided that since I have to go for blood counts tomorrow and will have to get dressed for that I’d stay in my pyjamas today.  Indeed just like yesterday although I’ll have you know I did change my jim jams when I had a shower last night.

Needless to say I was made it back from my holiday on Friday.  One of the renal docs called in to see me and when he confirmed that I was indeed being discharged said ‘Your counts are low.’  ‘I know’ I responded.  What I nearly said was ‘Well that’s haematology for you.  If you can hobble out on your own off you go regardless of what your counts are as they’re desperate for beds’ but I decided I didn’t know him well enough or rather he didn’t know me well enough and may have thought I was being serious.  

I think Bud was happy to see me, I was certainly happy to see him.  Although I had forgotten what it was like waking up with the small furry family member wedged against my legs.

Generally I feel okay – tired but otherwise quite good but as the pharmacist said on Friday it will be next week when my counts bottom out that I’ll feel ropy.  The skin on the back of my hands is doing a really good impression of alligator hide and my stomach skin has decided to respond with quite an extreme redness to any kind of sticky tape applied.  Last night I’m sure a layer of skin came off when I removed the tape holding my peritoneal canula.

Speaking of last night, there I was straightening the quilt on the settee and may have been huffing and puffing a little, and my silver tongued husband came in and said ‘I miss the old Paula’. 

B went shopping yesterday and I said that I’d make lasagna but he told me to have a rest and he’d buy some instead so that’s what we had for tea yesterday.  Today however we’re having cottage pie – homemade cottage pie.  B is making it.  He’s already put the dishwasher on with the meagre amount of dishes used so far today in preparation for ‘making the cottage pie’.  I’ve told him ‘It’s just cottage pie, not a seven course gourmet meal’ – I may have to eat my words – literally if the cottage pie sucks. 

 

I’m all out of wool, I’m so lost without it

and I’d run out of cream which was going to be my edging colour for both the inner squares and the outer rectangles.  So under duress he brought me a new 400g ball of cream aran, a pair of 4.5 mm knitting needles and the substitute cable needle.

I had found a lovely little jacket pattern at knitty.com –

I also tracked down a hat pattern at sweaterbabe.com – Cable Baby Beanie – and altered the rib to moss stitch and changed the cable stitch to match the one on the cardy.  After B brought me a darning needle in this afternoon, they both now look like this…

Needless to say finishing things off seems to usually take ages but it’s now done and I have nothing crafty to do.  I knew I should have pressed B to bring me something else in addition to the darning needle – he didn’t even want to bring me that suggesting I might prefer to ‘Have a rest’.

Now I’m not saying I’m easily bored – oh wait, yes I am actually.  Yesterday I changed my own bed – and not because I’d had a boo boo I’ll have you know.  I was about to remind the Health Care Assistants when I thought ‘What’s stopping me doing it?’  The answer was nothing and it made a change since B changes the bed at home because the bending starts my back off however with the benefit of an adjustable bed no bending was required.  I also assisted today – well I’m going with ‘assisted’ but ‘hindered’ is probably a better description.

One of the registrars called in this afternoon and asked whether Prof had said if I could go home after the chemotherapy had finished or if we needed to wait until my counts went back up before I got released.  As it turned out I got disconnected while B was here and if I’d thought on I could have pushed to go home then!  Just kidding!!! B wouldn’t have gone for it and the nurse I said it in front of thought that that was being a bit too keen – plus although B has cleaned the bathroom today he still apparently needs to wash the bed sheets.

I forgot to mention that I’m concerned that Prof knows me too well.  As I’ve said me and the steriod Dexamethasone don’t mix well so when I got my first dose last Thursday and it was the same as last time I queried it as Prof said we’d look at reducing the amount.  The nurse said she’d ask about it and shortly after Prof and one of the junior docs arrived and he informed her, to her surprise and the surprise of the nearby nurse and subsequent visiting registrar, that in view of my extreme reaction to Dex it was up to me how much I took.  There I was all geared up for putting my case across for taking less than suggested or in fact none at all and I ended up with free reign.  Prof’s method actually worked like a charm and I had to give proper consideration to the amount I wanted to take and felt I had to take some as I’d been entrusted with a completely voluntary decision and indeed when the registrar suggested that I might want to consider taking 6 mg instead of 4 mg I immediately wanted to say ‘No way’ even though I’d thought this myself.

Other Creative Spaces can be found here – at least I’ll have plenty of time in the morning to do some serious looking at other craftiness.

 

Just call me ‘Arry

As in ‘Arry Potter since I’m residing in a cupboard albeit not a cupboard under the stairs (I cannot take the credit for that comment it was one of the sisters that made the comparison).  Maybe Harry Plopper would be more appropriate – a lá Homer Simpson’s pig in The Simpsons Movie.

I do have two doors but no windows.

And there’s my buzzer in there too – because I just knew you’d want to see it and well, I er, pointed my phone the wrong way to take the pic!

So what exactly have I been up to since I got admitted – let’s see…

I got to go out last Tuesday afternoon into Liverpool nearly shopping – only nearly because I got to the till in Primark with a pair of trousers, a cardy and about 350 pairs of knickers to find I was totally unable to remember the pin number for my credit card and even though Primark is a cheap shop the £2.00 and coppers I had in my pocket wouldn’t cover the cost of the items.

With B taking me out for tea as well I was shattered on Wednesday, my shoulder pain was also quite severe which didn’t help and when Auntie Ann suggested going home earlier than usual so I could get some sleep I didn’t exactly protest.  The day nurse had asked if I wanted additional painkillers on top of the paracetamol and Tramadol and I’d said that just at night would be good – the pain had stopped me nodding off on Tuesday night and then woke me up a few times.  Later in the afternoon I asked for some more but the junior doc said that with my kidney issues I could only have it the once.  It certainly helped that night and if the pain had persisted I would have asked for something else on Thursday but it eased considerably and has now gone completely.  An x-ray showed no myeloma damage but a ‘touch of arthritis’.

I got to go out for a wander on Tuesday as the DT-PACE treatment didn’t actually start until Thursday due to my peritoneal dialysis (PD).  It raised a number of questions – not least would I be able to do it at all through the treatment.  As it turned out I can and because I now have some kidney function the renal doc was confident that for the length of the treatment I could manage with 12 hours of PD per 48 hours.  It has resulted in me having to get up at two, three and five in the morning to pop the PD fluid back in.  It was supposed to be midnight but with the initial lot of drugs being a bit late arriving and the bags running slightly longer than 24 hours it got later.

The renal doc’s only concern was about doing the PD at midnight (and the blood registrar did ask if I’d need help from with it) and was a bit amazed at me doing at 3 am ish (ish because I slept through my alarm and the nurse had to wake me up) – but basically I much prefer this to going down to another ward for hemodialysis – plus it results in statements such as ‘I don’t think that was my wee this morning’.

I have to wee in a cowboy hat and note what I drink – technically referred to as a ‘fluid balance’ and this morning one of the health care assistants was concerned about the look of one of ‘my’ wees.  My hat’s are numbered, in biro, 9 – my room number.  This errant sample had what looked like a 9 on it and there is no other combination of beds within the whole ward that would result in a 9 other than my room.  Fortunately she had the wherewithal to check with me and we waited for my next one which was fine otherwise I could have had all sorts of things poked and prodded unnecessarily since it then looked like someone had incorrectly marked their deposit.   When you’ve done it at a time with a five in the hour slot and am somewhere after it I for one find it difficult to say I definitely had a wee never mind recall exactly what it looked like.

The big problem with the PD was that the fluid sitting working busily in the peritoneal cavity clearing out the toxins would have attracted quantities of the chemotherapy drugs which would have had a two-fold effect.  Firstly reducing the amount that circulated in my system going about it’s proper business and secondly potentially causing problems in that area – too much heavy partying going on and not enough working.

So the schedule before delays affected exact timings should have been –

Thursday 12 noon – drain PD fluid, start 24 hours chemotherapy

Friday 12 noon – chemotherapy disconnected

Friday 12 midnight – start night time PD

Saturday morning – change PD fluid

Saturday 12 noon – drain PD fluid, start 24 hours chemotherapy and so on.

The x-ray of the bump on my head showed no myeloma lesion so I got to have a biopsy.  I have to say I wouldn’t have been at the front of the queue to have a needle stuck in the back of my head but it was actually okay.  As there wasn’t enough material on the first go I got to do it twice.  It was just like being stuck with a needle for a blood sample but the ‘stuck’ sensation carries on and wiggles about a bit.  The lady who did it, who was a lace knitter and loves Ravelry, had a look in the microscope right outside the ward and said that nothing looked untoward but they would analysis it further.  I said I’d actually been thinking I may have always had a lumpy head but not noticed but it has gone down a lot today – Auntie Ann is leaning towards me having bumped it.

As it turns out that we have a match for a donor stem cell transplant I get to have an MRI of my head and shoulder to ensure there are no myeloma related surprises during the transplant.  The registrar mentioned this last week, not the match but the transplant – I didn’t ask about a match because I was concentrating too much on the thought of someone sticking a needle in my head but B and I saw one of the transplant docs on Monday and there are two ‘matches’ with exactly the same mis-match at CW something or other on the light bit of the relevant antibody – if I remember correctly.  It’s not a major one and another doc said that a minor mis-match isn’t necessarily a bad thing as it can help participate in the whole graft vs host and subsequent graft vs myeloma effect.  Something I did learn during the course of the conversation with the transplant doc is that it can be quite distracting to have a few grains of rice sitting on top of the end of your PD cannula which is itself tucked into your bra!  I was just tucking into the sweet and sour chicken and rice that B had brought me when he arrived and said I’d rather speak to him then than wait however I didn’t feel that rummaging down my bra to extract the offending food would have been appropriate.  The transplant could be in five to six weeks.

So back to my cupboard.  I was initially in a six bed room.  One of my fellow holidaymakers got swabbed positive for flu – a flu not already in the whole hospital so brought in by her or her visitors.  She got shipped off to a side room and the bed was blocked.  The five of us remaining got flue inhalers to take.  Another vacationer went home on Saturday and that bed was blocked too and the same on Sunday.  A frequent tripper here (who’s been partaking of the facilities every time I’ve been in since November) went home for a few hours on Saturday and had to come back to get swabbed as she’d had a bit of a cough.  The results on Monday showed a positive for another type of flu so she got a trip to an isolation room on the infectious diseases ward. Vacationer four had already left to go home on Monday so that left me on my own in a six bed room and because I was potentially contaminated that meant all the other beds were blocked so I got moved to the only cupboard, I mean room available.  It’s okay actually although I didn’t sleep too well the first night – I think it was too quiet!

Anyway it could be worse I could be on my hols in Torquay, like a friend, and be in isolation in my hotel room.  Chris phoned me earlier to ask if I was still in segregated and then informed me that they were too.  Her husband hadn’t felt too good this morning with an upset tummy and she’d mentioned this to the waiter at breakfast.  As she was getting ready to go out and leave hubby to mop his own fevered brow the hotel manager turned up, wearing a mask, and asked if she’d not go out or mingle with other guests in the hotel.  They’d had a few reports of upsets – they had checked the kitchens and any similarity in the food consumed and had found nothing that linked the cases in that respect but were being careful so she’s spent the day in the hotel room with hot and cold running room service.

The manager before he left said that room service would of course be complementary and she (hubby wasn’t up to getting out of bed let alone eating) could order anything she wanted but it would be really handy if she could order something thin they could just push under the door like pizza!