Analgesics and War Horse…

March 1, 2012 / Codswallop 0 COMMENTS

The Welfare System finally came through for hubs.

When we would come to England, regardless of how long we stayed, anyone related to me benefited from the Welfare state of existence in my homeland.

To a degree…I doubt any of us could go on the dole or get short listed for a council house or qualify for a pension or a free TV license, but hubs did get a Freedom Pass this time around, he qualified by age, for which he paid dearly when he was awarded his Resident Visa last year.

An MP, for reasons known only to him, is trying to ban, or at least make benefits like these “means-tested” leaving wealthy or millionaire retirees out in the cold.

Why I wonder?

Paying taxes and supporting Britain for 40+ years of one’s life should be enough to warrant a little nod of appreciation for loyalty…Mr. Clegg is no doubt regarding pensioner Paul McCartney and thinking,

“Should Mr. McCartney be issued a Freedom Pass?”

A Freedom Pass, for those of you still in the dark, allows the over 60’s free access on all London transport.

I wonder, as I regard the former Beatle,

“Does Paul even use public transport?”

If the answer is, “yes,” then why, when he has paid taxes, contributed to National Insurance and the Welfare System, should he not be entitled to any benefits that befit an aging hippy?

“Sorry, you’ve done way too well for yourself, through your hard work and savings, to qualify for something you’ve been paying towards all your working life!” Is the message Clegg’s means-testing is conveying.

That’s life. Bah Hum-bugger!

Then the other bastion of British life, the National Health, finally came through for hubs. After eight months of patient following through and British reserve, he had his shoulder operated on yesterday morning.

The arthroscopic procedure, more simply called Key Hole surgery, took place at the London PRU (Princess Royal University) Hospital, named for Princess Anne, who else?!

I was not allowed to go, there was nowhere for me to sit. There was a waiting room but I was assured it would be crowded, noisy and unpleasant.

“We will give you a ring an hour before he’s ready to be picked up to give you time to get here by bus,” the nurse assured me over the phone.

Yesterday morning, to compensate, I got up at 5 am with hubs to offer moral support as he solemnly prepared for his day surgery.

Nothing to eat or drink, simple shoes, zip up top, sweat pants; a backpack with a book, art pad and dressing gown (a brand new kimono we’d given my father back in the Japan days).

Some of the men, he told me later, looked ridiculous in their short woolly bathrobes and cartoon character slippers. Hub’s clogs and kimono raised the pre-op dress code. We won’t mention the elastic stockings they all had to wear to ward off thrombosis.

I waved and blew kisses at the front door as he trudged off to the bus stop with an empty belly and caught the first of two busses. He phoned me on the second one just in case he couldn’t use his mobile at the hospital.

I called at 940am to check on his progress. He had just been taken back,

“We’ll ring you,” she promised again, “or you can call back in an hour and a half.”

An hour later the phone rang and I was told,

“Your husband’s ready! I will order you a taxi when you get here. Come by bus, it’s cheaper.”

It took me 45 minutes to get there.

I walked past the waiting room which was crowded, noisy and unpleasant.

I continued on through to the Day Surgery Wards,

“There she is,” he said waving. He was dressed and packed talking to the physiotherapist.

I had to wait before going over to give him a kiss. He looked bright as a button. I was impressed.

“The doctor gave me a shot of analgesics to help me come round and I feel great, ” he told me.

I didn’t say he felt great because of the analgesics which weren’t what helped him come round. He needed to live up to his Superman image.

He stayed analgesic busy for the rest of the day. Later in the afternoon he tagged along with me to meet our youngest daughter to see the West End play, “War Horse.”

She took some on the spot photos to message offspring and siblings in Garland, proof that Pops was still standing…or sitting!