Blood in the Elevator

Dave's hernia surgery was yesterday and he is fine. But it was a long, long day -- for me and especially for Dave.

We went to the hospital in the pre-dawn darkness, leaving home in an Uber about 7 a.m. The hospital isn't far so we were there within 10 minutes or so. This time, Dave is on the kite floor, as opposed to the fish floor, the beach floor or the butterfly floor.

We got into Elevator B and noticed a splatter of dried blood on the ground. Dave said, "That's fantastic!" I said, "This place gets a little more Soviet every time we come here." When we got off the elevator Dave mentioned the blood to a passing hospital staff member, who smiled with a bewildered why-are-you-bothering-me-about-this expression.

He was shown to a bed on a ward and the doctor came in and explained that although we'd been told to come at 7:30 a.m., his surgery wouldn't be until early afternoon (!). Dave absorbed this news with equanimity despite the fact that he wouldn't be able to eat beforehand. And then we waited, hearing various patients come and go in the curtained beds around us -- severed tendons, a suspicious growth on a kidney, a man with uncontrolled diabetes who was sent home to take his medication and come back another day. We saw none of these people -- we only heard them, each person reduced to their individual malady.

I had honestly expected Dave to go right into surgery and although I brought a book, I didn't think I'd have a chance to read it. Instead, I finished the whole thing while keeping him company, and then read the news on my phone. I got lunch and finally left around 2 p.m., because we were both worried about the dog at home by herself. (We'd cancelled her walker because she seemed to be having joint pain the night before.)

When I went down in Elevator B, the blood was still on the floor.

The doctor had promised to call me after the surgery, and I had that holiday panto to attend with my co-workers. So I got ready and went to that, thinking the doctor might call while I was on the tube or in the middle of the play. (And you don't want to get a phone call in the middle of a panto, especially an irreverent gay panto like this one, because they're likely to heckle you from the stage.)

I felt like the most irresponsible spouse in the world, going to a panto when my husband was laid up in a hospital in God knows what condition. But Dave knew I'd bought this ticket long ago and he said I should go, so I did.

As luck would have it, the doctor called during intermission (immediately after I'd attempted to phone the ward where we'd spent the morning) and said Dave was fine. I even spoke to groggy Dave who said he was in pain but otherwise OK. So I could enjoy the second half of the panto without anxiety.

I got home at midnight and fell into bed and neglected to e-mail Dave's poor parents until this morning, even though I'd promised to keep them up to date. Oops!

I'll be back to the hospital today, curious to see if anyone's cleaned up that blood in Elevator B.

We're Good to Go

I am really scraping the bottom of the barrel today photo-wise. Not that this photo is bad -- it's just old. It took it Nov. 17. I haven't looked at these hellebores lately to see if they've fully bloomed, but I imagine they have. Maybe I'll do an update tomorrow.

Dave's surgery is moving ahead today, thank goodness. He didn't hear anything from the hospital until 3:30 yesterday afternoon, so he was biting his fingernails (figuratively speaking) all morning. Talk about leaving the plans to the last minute! Anyway, we've got to be at the hospital at 7:30 a.m. and I'm not sure what happens after that. I may come back home or I may go to work. It's only a partial workday anyway -- the library is closing early for the school holiday party (which I will probably skip given this surgery situation).

I have a theater outing tonight, by unfortunate coincidence -- something that was planned long ago before we knew about the surgery. I have a ticket to a holiday "panto" with some colleagues from work. I probably will go to that, since I spent £50 on a seat, even if it's not ideal timing.

Can you stand another fox video? This one has some pretty good shots -- including me wrapped in a blanket, looking like Michael Stipe in a housedress as I try to call the dog inside. (She was hot on the scent trail of the foxes!)

Pins and Needles

This is the new block of flats on West End Lane, where the old council office building used to be. They've really done it up for the holidays! As much as I complained about decorating in my last post, I must say it's fun to see other people's decorations. I just don't want to deal with them myself!

I have been slammed at work this week. I don't know why it's been so busy, but I am literally running all day. We seem to have a lot of classes coming in as we near Winter Break. I guess the teachers want the kids to have a reading project over the holidays.

And speaking of decorating and the library, here's how our Lower School handled the Christmas tree question:

I think that's pretty clever! And no expense involved!

Dave's hernia surgery is scheduled for tomorrow so he's taking today off to prepare. Unfortunately last night he got a call from the hospital saying that because of his Anti-TNF Lupus-like Syndrome, a side effect of his Crohn's medication, his surgery may be delayed. Dave flipped out at this news, because he's already arranged for substitutes for his classes and made lesson plans and announced to the kids that he'll be out -- he said in no uncertain terms that he wanted to go ahead with the surgery. The syndrome only flares periodically and in fact he was out with a co-worker when the call came. He told the hospital, "I'm fine! I'm in a pub!"

Now he's on pins and needles waiting to hear today what might happen, once the surgeon is consulted.

The NHS is so strange. For the longest time they wouldn't confirm his surgery date, so it was hard for him to make plans. They finally confirmed it just last week and now that plans are in place, they're talking about torpedoing them. It's like they never deal with people who have jobs and schedules to maintain -- they seem to think Dave has all the free time in the world.

My method of dealing with situations like this is, what's the worst-case scenario? The surgery gets delayed, in which case he cancels the subs and goes back to teaching his classes. It's not world-ending. But he really wants this procedure done, as the hernias are getting more uncomfortable and more visible. Fingers crossed he gets good news today.

Keep It Simple

Time for an update on the graffiti-covered Chinese restaurant. After I last blogged it, graffiti continued to accumulate and it was looking pretty scroungy. But I walked by the other day and saw that it has been stripped of all identity, with the signs and even the pink stone facing removed, and the window covered with sheet metal. A few tags remain here and there. I wonder if it's about to gain new life as a different business?

Remember how I said we weren't going to have a Christmas tree in the library this year? We'd all discussed it with the maintenance department and that was the decision. None of us want one -- expensive, messy and wasteful was the consensus.

Well, yesterday, one of the school's maintenance supervisors took it upon themselves to order one -- especially strange considering there are only about ten days of school left. Someone from that department came to let me know, and we leaped into action to belay the order.

I don't know how or why the tree idea got revived, but we compromised by agreeing to put up a small artificial tree that we had in a storage closet, so that has been installed atop one of the bookcases. Hopefully that will satisfy any perceived need for a tree. It is admittedly more modest than usual, but I always wind up having to decorate the big trees and keep them watered, and picking up the ornaments that inevitably get knocked off by carelessly wielded book bags, and the maintenance people have to clean up around them and take them down -- and it's such a hassle.

I am a Christmas minimalist -- as you can tell from our flat, with its single strand of colored lights on a houseplant! I even objected when the librarian came up with an idea to make little tags with the names of books on them to use as ornaments (something we did years ago). We already have boxes of ready-to-use ornaments, so I put some of those on the tree and hopefully that will be the end of it. We have Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa book displays, and some other seasonal decorations like snowflakes and little winter trees. Enough already!

Hunter

I found dewy frost on this car window yesterday morning while walking the dog, but it really wasn't very cold. Certainly not freezing. The avocado is still holding its own, as are the other tender plants. Tomorrow night it's supposed to get down to almost freezing, about 34º F, but I'm going to let everything take its chances.

The dog had us up at 4 a.m. this morning, who knows why. She suddenly insisted on going out, and when she did, she just ran around the yard. She seems mostly deaf these days so if she heard foxes I'd be amazed. Maybe she just thinks she heard them.

How do we feel about Hunter Biden? The pardon doesn't bother me at all, to be honest. Hunter has been a right-wing scapegoat for years despite holding no public office, and I'm glad to see him protected from further persecution. There are complaints that Biden somehow violated the public trust by pardoning a relative (although Clinton pardoned his brother, and Trump pardoned his son-in-law's father) and that the pardon is wildly broad, covering not only the paltry charges Hunter already faces but pretty much anything the feds could dream up. Obviously Biden had to make it broad, because otherwise Trump's minions would gin up more offenses.

People act like this is a dramatic strike against good government. I don't see how it's worse than many previous pardons, like Trump's pardons of Michael Flynn, Steve Bannon and Roger Stone. In fact those are arguably much worse, because those people had a direct hand in government. (Stone from an advisory perspective, admittedly.)

I'm sick of the right's fixation on Hunter Biden and his stupid laptop. The guy was an addict with a messy life and yes, he benefitted from the Biden name, but that's hardly unusual for the child of a politician. (What's that line from Creedence Clearwater Revival? "I ain't no senator's son, no, no...") I say we leave him alone. His life is hard enough. I wouldn't want to be Hunter Biden for anything in this world.

Here's Olga scratching around on the artificial grass in front of the swank furniture store around the corner. Some of that furniture is so high-style that it barely seems functional. We could use some new furniture -- we're still sitting on the living room set that we bought from the previous occupants of this flat back in 2014 -- but when the time comes, we probably won't be getting it here.

Two Foxes

I spent yesterday catching up on stuff around the house. It was rainy and there wasn't much opportunity to go outside, so I dealt with things like submitting medical invoices for reimbursement from our insurance (fun!) and paying my UK tax preparer (fun!).

I also did some reading. I started a murder thriller called "Black Thorn" by Sarah Hilary that I picked up in a bookstore on a whim. It's pretty good so far -- I'm about 100 pages in. And I'm almost caught up on all my New Yorkers. I think I'm two issues behind.

One of the New Yorker articles I read was about Tucker Carlson and his "road show." Apparently Tucker's idea of the pinnacle of American greatness and decency was the year 1985, and he says this over and over again -- " I liked America in 1985." I find that perplexing. I don't remember 1985 being a particularly great time, with AIDS ravaging the gay community (granted, Tucker may not have minded) and the military tangled up in foreign conflicts in Lebanon and Nicaragua. It's an odd year to choose. But then, it was Reagan's Morning in America, which I suppose appeals to conservative sensibilities. It was a relatively stable time, I'll give it that, even if to me and many of my college-age friends it felt stifling.

Funny how we mythologize the past. I suspect Tucker thinks 1985 was better than it really was, even for him. Nostalgia is powerful and deceptive.

I checked the garden cam to see what went on in our garden during our absence in Bray. Turns out, not much -- but we did get an answer to a lingering question regarding the neighborhood foxes. Some of you wondered whether the fox I've been catching on video is one animal or more than one, and I've been curious about the same thing. Well, the short video above isn't very good, partly because I had the camera positioned badly, but it definitely shows two foxes -- so there are at least a pair of them. One runs by at the very beginning of the clip, near the shed, and another one follows a few moments later.

(Added clarification on the foxes for those of you missing one: The first fox runs through from :00 to :01, in the far back by the shed. The second runs through from :07 to :10 and is much more visible.)

(Top photo: A fallen maple leaf on one of next year's teasels.)

Home Again

We made our way back from Bray yesterday morning on the train. By the time I'd walked the dog, had breakfast and packed everything up, it was somehow 11 a.m. -- checkout time. So there wasn't much opportunity to do anything else but get to the train station.

Once again we had a terrible time finding an Uber to carry us and the dog. We were rejected by five drivers, one of whom told Dave we had to order an "Uber Pet." If you can figure out what this is you're a step ahead of me. There's nothing on the app that specifies pets (we always put in notes that we have a dog) and there is no such separate app as "Uber Pet," at least not that I can find.

We called the people who booked us the cottage and they got us a ride with a local car service. All's well that ends well.

The train from Maidenhead was surprisingly crowded and Olga got lots of pats, even when she mysteriously began licking some poor man's pristine white trainers. I apologized but he didn't seem to mind. He must clean those shoes with something that appealed to her.

Since then she's been pretty much sound asleep in her familiar surroundings, as you can see above. (Notice that she has a bed on the floor -- but she always opts for the couch.)

And I've done laundry and we had take-away Chinese for dinner, so we're pretty much back in our groove. I know I'm behind on answering comments but I hope to get to that today!