It’s all about bladders really.

The Rev. was away last week, so it was planned that I took the services in both parishes. I’m lucky as I don’t have to produce a sermon every week ,  I had plenty of time to work on it. I got other members of the “ladies ” group to take part, and we were off in the sunshine to our lovely old square Church in the village of Inverlussa, a remote place, which sits on top of a hill looking out to sea.

The Rev. made it back home late on Saturday evening, but as I had arranged to travel with a friend he said that he would follow.Just as we were about to leave the phone rang, it was our organist for the second service in the other Parish. The Rev. answered it, ” Oh I’m so sorry.” I heard him say, “If we can’t find a replacement we’ll sing without. I hope your eyes get better soon.”  He called to me and said ” S. can’t make it ,she has Cystitis.” “Then why did you tell her that you hoped her eyes got better? ” I asked, ” Well  she can’t play if she can’t see.” He said. I replied ” I think you’ll find that’s conjunctivitis!”.

The first service went well, after two of us had knocked on a neighboring house to ask to use the toilet, this very elderly lady lives in a bit of a muddle to say the least but in an emergency any kind of convenience is OK by me, and I take diuretics, so it was!

The lack of an organist for the second service was still a problem. As we were preparing to rush off again, V. who played for the first round, offered to come with us. We also collected the friend responsible for the Intercessory Prayers, bundled back into the car and shot off with some visitors to the area, who had arrived too late for the first service, but would attend the second, in hot pursuit.

We met dozens of tourists either walking, cycling or just out for a leisurely drive on the single track road to the next church, but made it just on time. We dropped  our organist friend who has M.S. which impairs her mobility a bit,  at the church door ,and the rest of us legged  it to the public toilets, of which there is one. Only one of our churches has facilities, as I may have mentioned before.

We didn’t use the Gent’s, but here is the Rev. modelling outside.

The second service went well too, we had a lovely family from Holland visit us, who are coming to lunch on Wednesday, and the Rev. slipped in a blessing for a child who had been baptised elsewhere.

All in all a good  wee morning.

Advertisements

A bit of a rant.

I ‘ve read and heard a lot about the Liverpool Care Pathway lately. Nursing a terminally ill patient is always a challenge. When I was a student nurse we would have allocated someone to “special” a very ill person. This meant that he/she was in the care of that nurse until she passed away. The nurse would sit behind the curtains as long as her shift allowed and some else took over, and often she would stay well after her shift had ended

It has been known since the dinosaurs roamed ,that as far as possible a patient should keep up fluids for as long as possible, even if it was just a few sips of water, as this made the dying process much more comfortable. Of course apart from pain relief other drugs are probably not necessary. As a senior member of staff,  I would still insist on “turning” and full nursing care to the end.

Today, a person will perhaps have the luxury of a single room, but is unlikely to have a staff member present, as staffing levels are low. LCP ,in my opinion, could allow some Nurses to leave someone  alone to fade away, dehydrating, malnourished and uncared for. I for one am glad it is being phased out. I hope that a better care package is put in place to ensure that someone is cared for physically, emotionally and spiritually.

I would like to see the training of Nurses changed, I would like more emphasis on holistic care and less dependency on technology. Lets get back to treating people the way we would like to be nursed ourselves, with empathy and sensitivity. “Vocation” is not a P.C. word these days, but it changes the way we view the word “job”.

 

Oven Slut

I am an oven slut. I don’t mind admitting it, I hate cleaning the cooker. The outside I manage but the oven….. I came back from holiday and realised that I couldn’t see through the oven door window. I think this was a job I had planned to do earlier in the year before other events got in the way.

Ovens must have been designed by people who never clean them because, unless you are lucky enough to have one of those swanky “built in” types at a reasonable height, you have to stand on your head, bend double or get down on your knees to get at it.

I purchased one of those cleaning kits where you put the shelves in a plastic bag, pour on the chemicals and tip the rest in the oven. I thought that I had a “self-cleaning ” model but obviously my cooking is too much for it.

With the kit you are provided with a pair of skimpy plastic gloves which are absolutely useless as they fill with liquid. What is really needed is a pair of those that a vet uses when examining a cow! 

I left the stuff on for most of the day, but I still had to wash it all off. I covered a kitchen chair cushion with bubble wrap to kneel on. I’ve had problems in the knee department since my late teens and as I am now not far off 60 genuflecting does not come easy. I also forgot about the bubble wrap and scared myself half to death when I knelt down and the bubbles exploded with loud bangs!

Despite putting newspaper over the floor, nasty brown syrupy liquid ran everywhere. That new shiny paper is not as absorbent as the old stuff. With a bit of elbow grease the glass cleared and the shelves shone.

The Rev. went by and remarked that he preferred the oven to be cleaned after each meal, I told him that he was welcome to do just that at any time. He didn’t seem to like the idea and sloped off to the living room to watch the tennis.

Now it’s time to cook another meal, but I don’t want to make it dirty, perhaps we’ll have sandwiches….