Coffee, cake and a large kangaroo

When I checked-in for my flight at Heathrow, I was pleased to discover that I could keep my scooter, and my independence, to the Departure Gate before needing to swap to one of their wheelchairs. How fabulous! What a good start to my holiday. And when I arrived in Perth, my scooter was waiting for me. Even better. 

Alison and David met me at the airport and we drove to where they live in Rockingham, about 40 minutes’ south of Perth. Although it was late and I had just got off a long flight, Alison and I talked for ages catching up over a cup of tea. David left us to it and went to bed.

Not up to much the next morning, we took a gentle drive along the coastal road, around Safety Bay and Shoalwater, ending at Rockingham Beach. According to the mini-guide I had picked up at the airport, Shoalwater has the most beautiful beaches in Western Australia (WA).

We stopped in a sea-view café for coffee and cake, the beginning of a trend I continued my holiday. We tried to spot dolphins but they weren’t playing today.

We had more coffee and cake in King’s Park, and soaked up the views across Perth. The city skyscrapers to the left with park and tree tops between you and them. The view across the Swan River and valley as it spreads south. I love how the skyscrapers stop all of a sudden and then there’s nothing. Perth is one of the most remote cities in the world.

Another day, my ears popped as we drove up to Serpentine Dam it is so high in the hills outside Perth. Passing a yellow “kangaroos for the next 9km” sign, I made David stop so I could take a photo. “These tourist are strange,” he teased. As we moved on, a large kangaroo leaped out of the trees ahead on the right, bounced once in the middle of the road and disappeared into the trees on the other side.

 

Countdown to Australia

The Month 3 assessments have been done. I don't need to go back now until Month 6 (always assuming nothing untoward happens). The flights are booked, the scooter has been organised and approved by the airline. I’ve even got a second prescription after something of a hiccup. The GP I saw on Friday couldn’t work out how to do a double prescription to last me six weeks, so he just printed the usual one, which only lasts a month. “The lady on reception knows how to do it,” he said. “Speak to her and I’ll sign another one.”

But she said she was locked out of the system for 24 hours (ie until Monday) because he had printed the first prescription. As I wasn’t going until next Friday she said I had time to request a repeat prescription on Monday which would be ready Wednesday. Oh-my-God! What am I going to do now? That’s cutting it a bit fine. Panic, panic! I can’t run out of meds halfway through my holiday! And I still needed to take the cat to my sister’s. How am I going to fit in trips to the GP and chemist?

I calmed down after a good night’s sleep and first thing on Monday I booked an urgent GP appointment for later that day. I got my second prescription. I relaxed.

I packed that afternoon. Then all that was left was to take Zoe, the cat, to Jo’s. She was going to have her for the six weeks I would be away.

The first time I took Zoe with me to stay there, Tenzing, Jo’s cat, ate from Zoe’s dish, so she pooed in his litter tray. Now they just sort of tolerate each other. One hisses and the other growls, but not much happens. There’s the occasional whack with a paw but mostly they stay out of each other’s way, except at meal times when they both want to be fed first. They're going to have to share a room overnight though, so that could be interesting. I'm sure they'll be fine. Jo's not worried anyway.

Cat installed in her temporary home, I returned to mine the next day and relaxed. I was now ready to fly halfway across the world…

And on it goes...

On my way into London to the last of my Month 3 appointments, a woman got on the train at Leigh, sat next to me and greeted me like an old friend. Other than asking where I was going, she talked about herself all the way to Fenchurch Street, barely pausing for breath. I knew all about her by the time we got there. I was relieved to get off the train.

The doctor leading the trial came, checked my lungs, glands and stomach, said “You’re good.” Then disappeared in a flash.

At the Research Centre, the nurse took my blood. Then picked up the vials to send them to the lab, and realised that she had missed two. My motorway vein went into hiding.

My next three month’s supply of medication arrived and I took the first tablet. The empty bottle and what was left of my first three month’s supply was returned to the clinic.

The doctor who usually did my blind assessment was on his honeymoon, so there was another one. We talked about how the scoring of the EDSS is subjective to the assessing doctor. “Yes, that’s its downfall”, she said.

There were two pegs missing from the nine hole peg test. She went in search of another. My right hand struggled to put the pegs into the holes and take them out again. There was a bigger difference between my hands this time. I’m right-handed but my left hand is stronger and steadier.

Andrew said “Hi” on his way past. He was finished and heading home. A man with a foreign accent almost bounced in. “You got MS?” I nodded. “Me too. I’m Peter. How long have you had it?” Good question. “Well, the diagnosis was ’97.” “Long time. Me? Seven years.”

 “I live each moment,” he said. “I know people. Get diagnosis, go right down.” He indicated with a down thumb. “That’s why me? I live for the moment.”

The saga continues...

The taxi was waiting for me at Fenchurch Street and away we went to the London Chest Hospital. Just as I arrived, Andrew was finishing. It was good to say “Hello” but there wasn’t time for much else. There were only two tests this time, but they were still hard work. I had to hold my breath for as long as I could and breathe out fast ‘til my lungs were fully empty. I was finished in no time.

The taxi driver who picked me up, didn’t know where Fenchurch Street was. “Is it near Liverpool Street?” he asked. As we left the hospital he turned left. I was sure he was supposed to go right. Oh well. He played with his satnav as we drove around. He didn’t seem to have any idea where he was going. Several wrong turns and satnav taps later, it found its destination. And we found Whitechapel Road and turned right. At last, I thought. We’re going in the right direction.

 “What number?” he asked. “Eh?” I was confused. “What number Fenchurch Street?” “I want the station.” “Oh.” Then he drove right by it.

 As I got out of the taxi, the clouds were as black as night. In the other direction there were large patches of blue. But the speckles of rain in the air suggested a torrential downpour was imminent. As the train pulled out of the station, the sun came out. I dived into my book and when I looked up, the heavens had opened. Oh dear, I thought. I hope it stops by the time we get to Southend. It didn’t. I hovered in the station trying to decide if it was a short shower or in for the day. Oh what the hell. I dashed to the car and got wet. By the time I got home, ten minutes later, the sun had come out.