Today we have a meeting: me, Stewart, Jo the OT manager, Monica the discharge manager and Maureen, the social worker. All on first name terms here. I am no stranger to meetings. I have asked for criteria, I think I have my head round it, and if I don' t god help any other poor bugger struggling with this.
It is an assessment of what I need. A plan will emerge and budgets will be discussed. Trouble is they have to manage me and I have set them a deadline of Friday to be out, they pale, they twitch, so they should.
Not only that they have my political standpoint to reckon with and I have never been good at compromising that, nor will I be. It comes down to whether you are covered by the social or the health. Social you pay, health you don't. I get Disabled Living Allowance now so I am happy to give them that. Beyond that I am not happy.
You see I believe that even Georgie boy Osborne, or dodgy David Cameron ( god you'd never go out with them would you?) with all of their millions should not have to pay for care when they become immobile and doubly incontinent. As long as we have screwed them for every penny of tax on exactly the same terms that we pay, no fancy accountants, no respectable fiddles. Not going to happen I know but we can dream.
So what do I need, simple really, I want Stewart to become the fastest hoister in the west, I don't want to have to wait for some other bugger to turn up if I want to go on the bed or into a chair. I want a daily health check on my vitals and my pipes. Frankly I think we could do the rest but I may give into a personal comfort visit a day just so Stewart doesn't end up doing all their jobs for them. Apart from that we may get a cleaner but that was always the case and then there's the asses milk and good food guides. We will cover those. Don't think the rest will break the bank and if they haven't got it sorted by Friday, I will, it's what I do. To get out we will get a car with ramp and winch, oh how sexy.
And to help matters I find I am quite whizzo in a wheelchair. I was tazzing round the ward yesterday and my famed lack of ability to do a three point turn is a myth engendered by others.