Tuesday, 23 June 2009

He's a mystery, I've got homework, and I'm full up

It's official - Husband is a mystery to the neurologist he's been seeing. After a year of MRI's, lumbar punctures, blood tests, X-rays, etc, etc, they have told him they don't know what is the matter with him. It's not multiple sclerosis, it's not Parkinsons, but it might be that he has been having strokes. Scuse Me? It might be? After all this time, and all these tests, it might be? The consultant is still waiting for the report from the brain function tests ( that consultant decided to go on holiday before sending his report) which, although it won't explain the reason for the brain scarring, may show the results of it. So much for our health service.

This morning I took my car to the doctor - should have known better really after the above, but no, my life these days seems to be a triumph of hope over experience. The garage don't know what the matter is! They don't seem willing or able to listen to me when I explained that on the sort of driving I do I should be getting about 50 mpg, even though I have never got over about 42, but over the last few weeks I am only getting 30-32. Now, to me, that means something's not right. To them, I'm a woman. So now I've got some homework. I have to fill the tank right to the brim, drive for 60 miles, top up the tank and go back to the garage and tell them how much fuel I had to put in. Now, I'm wondering, how do I make sure I end up at the petrol station after driving exactly 60 miles? Visions of having to drive round the pumps on the forecourt to make sure I get to the magic figure. What if I get to the figure and I'm nowhere near a petrol station? Then I'd just have to refill and start all over again. This could go on for a long time if I'm not careful.

Lunch time today we went back to the pub I mentioned before for lunch, and I had a lovely meal. It was called Carribean Chicken, and it was chicken (obviously) cooked in a sauce of cream, coconut, Malibu and pineapple. It was gorgeous, but I really did not need (or eat) 2 chicken breasts, or the chips, and I don't think I'll eat again for days.

Now I'm off to watch the rest of the Andy Murray game.


  1. Lets look on the bright side - at least he hasn't got Parkinsons or MS - both nasty progressive things.
    If he has been having tiny strokes I am sure that he can learn to cope with those. As long as the hospital keeps and eye on hin he should be fine.

    Your car on the other hand? - why do male mechanics always presume that we ladies know nothing about the vehicles we drive? makes me mad! I've been driving since before most of them were born! and I still get funny looks when I TELL them what the probs are!

  2. As granny says, it's good news they've ruled out the real nasty progressive diseases.

    Typical blokes in the garage, they think they can just fob off women, all they'll do is lose customers. When will garages learn? All I can say is that this makes them stupid, if they can't work out what you're saying. Anyway, these new cars should have all that sort of info stored electronically. Idiots!

    Glad you enjoyed lunch :o)

  3. What can I say that my wise friends have not already said?

    Granny and SewAli are quite right, excellent news that Himself does not have something progressive and nasty.

    As for the car, they are only mechanics - you are a woman, a mother, a business-person who can multi-task. It doesn't matter whether you do 60 miles or 117, just go back to the garage and TELL them you've done it and give them some numbers that sound "about right". How the hell will they know what you have or have not done.

  4. Thanks all.

    Bilbo, I did think of doing that but they cleverly zeroed both my trip counters before they gave me the car back, so that wasn't going to work. I'll get round to it, sooner or later.


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