Cancer 101

According to Orwell, room 101 is the worst thing in the world. I am not sure what the worst thing in the world is for me. I can think of quite a few objects or situations I don’t like, but the worst? It depends on timing. Whatever is bad at the moment is the worst thing in the world. What is gone is gone, so there is no point in worrying about it. What is coming in the future is in the future. For all of us the end is death, so there is little point in worrying too much about that. The focus, then, should be on the present.

Apart from my cancer, my chemotherapy treatment, my stoma, my hernia, my PICC line that has to be changed on Monday, and my side effects, the worst thing in the world at the moment for me is the way I have been treated over my retirement. Initially, it was the University of Nottingham, which as I have previously said, significantly delayed the process of retirement through incompetence and laziness. They have apparently reviewed the case and apart from a few errors they are wonderful. That’s good to know then.

My pension provider, the USS, was, I initially thought, not to blame for slowness in sorting out my pension. I thought they had just not had long enough due to the University’s incompetence, but no, after various communications this week it turns out they claimed not to have the documentation until a week or so ago, and they had ‘not seen’ communications with me indicating how I wanted my pension paid. It turns out they had all this information, so they asked me to confirm what I wanted via email and to fill in another form that they thought I had not completed, though I completed it a long time ago. They had permanently misplaced it.

I have still not received my pension, nor have I received notification of what it will be and when I will receive it. Nor is there an offer of an interim payment. The latest is an email received a few minutes ago saying that I should have received a letter this week with this information. That was the University again. I have not received the letter, and it is Friday afternoon.

Incompetence throughout. A refusal to accept responsibility. A refusal to act promptly to resolve the matter despite both the University and the USS being fully aware of my health situation. The other day I was more angry than I have been for a long time. Fortunately, I resisted any response. Is anyone aware of a link between illness and stress? Apparently, the University of Nottingham and the USS are not.

Funnily enough, no one is offering to pay the interest I am missing by not receiving my money on time. What a delightful failure of responsibility. I assume they think I am too ill to keep fighting. Perhaps I am.

On a more positive matter, my bloods are normal, apart from a slightly raised white blood cell count, so I can go ahead with treatment on Tuesday, but only after my PICC line is replaced on Monday because the NHS received a bad batch. Some of the lines are failing. Parking is going to be more difficult. The University has failed to respond to my request to keep my card active for a little while longer so I will have to park in the normal car parks at the hospital. Those of you familiar with Derby hospital will be aware of the lack of adequate parking, so despite my appointments not being until 1100 on both Monday and Tuesday, I will have to arrive around 0700 to make sure I get a parking space. Don’t suggest public transport. It is not feasible from here.

There is nothing to do in this hospital when waiting. There is a Costa, which stinks of coffee, a smell so vile, etc. There is the ‘restaurant’, which sells poor quality breakfast and has a Subway, which sells the most disgusting smelling food in the land. There is another cafe, which is mediocre. I could go for a walk but the hospital and surrounding area are ghastly, you walk out of the main entrance to the smokers, and then pass on to the cars and roads. It is undelightful. I can’t even go to the University library now, as I don’t have a card. Most of these places don’t open until at least 0800 so I am left with the corridors, watching ill people walk around.

We watched Oppenheimer the other night. It had the potential to be a great film, but the (usual US) failure to recognise that without the British research before the Manhattan Project, the atom bomb would not be ready for Hiroshima in August 1945 spoiled it for me. Perhaps Barbie will be better.