The Universe Tries My Patience!!!

"Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like stripping your gears." ~Barbara Johnson, American literary critic

Thank you Robert!!

   I woke to a glorious morning with blue skies and golden sunshine. Jules and Richard on Jules Fuel were moored up behind us, on their way down the cut. They filled NB Valerie up with diesel and hoiked a couple bags of coal on the roof while I was gone to London yesterday to visit Les. I settled our bill, and waited for our friend and fellow boater Robert Rogers of WB Wind in the Willows to come along. We were going cruising together, me steering and Robert locking so I could move the boat up near Cow Roast for Les' imminent home coming. 

Our bow, left, the water point, and the offending boat.

   I needed to top up our tank with water but there was a boat moored on the water point--all night and it showed no signs of moving! Robert steered NB Valerie across the canal since I could not jump off with a rope--the other boat took up the space needed and the bollard as well.

   While waiting for the tank to fill I took a closer look at the boat moored up on the service point and found a handwritten note taped to the inside of the cratch cover of NB Annie Too, which said:

Dear Boaters, We apologize to our proximity to the water hole. It's too difficult to navigate back up the cut without bothering the fishermen. We will be gone when they're headed here also. Sorry again, Matt, Tiphaine & Basil

The note from Matt, Tiphaine & Basil

    God forbid you should inconvenience some fishermen who will spend mere hours camped out on the cut, but please do make it bloody difficult for boaters to get into the service point for an essential like water--while you are gone for days??? Weeks??? Go back to whatever marina you came out of and stay there until you know the regulations about mooring on water points and you learn to have some consideration for boaters--of which you are obviously not (considerate or a boater).

   While I fumed, my phone rang. It was Les, calling to say he was greeted by a nurse who told him he was going home today. "I don't think so," he said as he attempted to explain that home was a boat and not some house he could pull up to in a Taxi. A short time later a doctor came in to take a look at  him and finally realized what Les and I have been saying for the past three days is in fact true...Les has an infection in his incision. 

   There is a reason why he has been running a fever for the past 72 hours. I thought the incision looked swollen with a red margin that seemed to be reaching outward. We were assured by a nurse two days ago that this was normal. Les has had the same junior doctor looking at his incision on rounds for the past three days who told Les all is fine and it's time to go home. 

   A different junior doctor this morning didn't like the look of Les' incision. It is hot to the touch and dimpling under the staples. Junior Doc prescribed a broad spectrum antibiotic and said it may be necessary to pop a couple of staples to let the incision breathe...but still Les can come home tomorrow! Here's your hat what's your hurry...it took a month to get Les a bed in the RFH and they have been giving him the bum's rush since last Wednesday--unbelievable!!

  Meanwhile Robert and I cruised off up the cut, headed for Cow Roast. Coming out of Gas lock 2 we noticed the pound was low. Ahead at Gas Lock 1 a boat was waiting to come down. The lock was in my favor so I took NB Valerie in and as we rose the bloke on the other boat struggled to keep his boat in the center of the canal, the muddy bottom sucking him towards the towpath while he pushed off the bank with a boat pole. He said the pound above was really low and warned me to stay in the middle. 

   Robert walked up to Bushes lock to let some water down. I figured if I stayed in the middle of the canal I would be fine, however there was so little water in the pound that I was basically cruising through mud! I could not get up any speed as the tiller pushed through thick glop and coming around a curve I found myself quickly aground.

When I say low--I mean low!!

   Thanks to Les' fine teaching skills, I remembered to slow down and reverse gently which did the trick. A short while later a slogged up to the lock and the boat sluggishly slid in the open gate. I was truly thankful for Robert's company. I had considered single handing it up to Cow Roast which I could have done--slowly--in good circumstances but not with the pounds so low. 

   Robert follows a web page called All Things Berko and he showed me a picture posted two hours previously of the pound between The Rising Sun and the Boat pubs in Berkhamsted. The text suggested "someone pulled the canal plug," possibly due to a need to dredge the canal for evidence regarding a murder which took place there last June. 

   As we cruised up to Dudswell Lock 47 a notice by Canal & River Trust said it all. Usually there is a sign from CRT on this lock asking folks to shut the gates but leave a lower gate paddle up to facilitate the flow of water. Not today!

   Apparently there is leak somewhere and the cut is losing water between Tring Summit and the locks lower down through Northchurch and Berkhamsted. Navigation through Dudswell locks is restricted now and no traffic is allowed from 4 p.m. to 8 a.m. in order to save water. 

  We moored up by the donkeys (boaters who know the area know exactly where we are), and after a much needed cup of tea and some Angel Bars Robert headed off back home.

   I finished washing several loads of curtains, dinette cushion covers, throw pillow covers, and got down to some basic wall scrubbing and cleaning to prepare for Les' home coming, all the while fretting about it.
   Yes, I want him to come home, but I don't want a repeat of last year, with district nurses visiting every day, cleansing his incision with sterile water, covering it with Dermateg waterproof sealed surgical pads, and reassuring me that the wet, gooey look of Les' incision was "normal"--just exudate--an apparent new trend in British nursing--according to a research paper on the difference between British and American Nursing by one of my nursing students.

   I was always taught a cut, sore, scrape, or incision should be kept clean and dry. To leave it wet invites infection; covering it over and restricting air flow also invites infection by anaerobic bacteria. As someone with eight major surgeries under my belt I know a thing or two about what to look for and I knew what I was seeing wasn't right. Nonetheless the nurses were happy and they completely missed what was right in front of their noses--his wound was infected and he developed Sepsis and nearly died. 

   I don't want a repeat of this situation and I don't want the responsibility--because it's not mine to bear. Les developed this in hospital and he should remain there through the end of this week until the medical professionals are clear the antibiotics are working and the infection is healing. I am not a nurse. I am a herbalist and a healer but I know my limits. 

   I remembered in late afternoon that I was given the phone number of Professor Davidson's nurse assistant. I called and shared my concerns, to be told that if indeed Les had contracted an infection (she hadn't been up to see Les today), then the best place for him is at home because hospitals breed too many bacteria and a lot of resistant strains. It would be best for Les to come home and have a district nurse come in every day and check his wound. 

   I explained what happened last time and replied, "So Les would be sent home to the care of the nurses who failed to recognize an infection in his last surgical incision and also failed to spot the signs of Sepsis." The nurse assistant said she would go up and see Les right away and call me back. 

   Les called about thirty minutes later to say she had been up to visit, and agreed there was an infection (how many medical staff does it take??). She touched it and the incision is hot. Apparently she agreed Les should stay in hospital one more night and be reappraised for release in the morning. 

  I received a call from her several hours later in which I was basically told the same thing but in which she reiterated that the best place for Les to recover is at home and he should be able to leave tomorrow.
  I reiterated that I was not comfortable with that and I wanted Les to stay in hospital until we knew for sure that the antibiotics were working. She told me I could call her any time with my concerns. I asked if she had received my email from last Friday. She replied, "No." So I've sent it again. 
It just never ends....

Always read the small print

A lovely canalside pub at Berkhamsted and the sign on the grass says free beer. Moor up Jaq.

Oh well the excitement was good while it lasted. Should have gone to Specsavers.

No need for your specs when Kath on Nb Bobcat approaches. You can spot the cat`s eyes from quite a distance. Kath moored up for tea and cake as all good boaters do. Had been a long time since we crossed paths so it was good to natter.

Chillin'!

"Light be the earth upon you, lightly rest." ~Euripides, 484 BCE - 406 BCE

Library books in hand, Kings Langley towpath

   Slowly, slowly we head North once more, leaving the crazy pressure and press of humanity in our wake. We've cruised in this way, staying a week or 10 days when stopping, to fill time while waiting for Les' consultation with the surgeon regarding next steps to reverse the Ileostomy.  It was June 6th and he's blogged about that so I won't.

Palouse photo and Big Love Tray

    We made friends with Susan and Colin on NB Carrie Ann while moored in Cassiobury Park last month. They are new live-aboards and really lovely folk, whose company we've enjoyed immensely. Our paths have crossed since then as we leap frog past one another along our way toward the summit.
   Les and I spent a week moored at Home Park near King's Langley, walking the local footpath into town for lunch and making several visits to the library to look at old Ordinance survey maps and check out historical books about the area and began a slow spring cleaning, washing all the curtains, cleaning out cupboards and drawers, making space on our wall for a Big Love Tray by Emma Bridgewater potteries--a gift from friends Lael and Larry in Idaho and in so doing, finally freeing up the perfect spot for our wedding gift from friends Karen and Jim Barron in Pullman, Washington--a photo of the Palouse in flower. The tray matches our Big Love mug--another lovely gift from dear friends Sue and Ken Deveson of NB Cleddau; we have a decor theme going!
   We puttered up to Apsley for water, caught up with NB Carrie Ann once more and spent a delightful evening aboard their lovely boat chatting, laughing, and drinking wine. The craic was grand!
   We moved on to Bourne End for a week, moored up across from Pix's Farm--a delightful pocket of countryside surrounded by the growing babble of London's ex-urbs. We discovered at the Hemel Hempstead library, that Pix's Farm Lane is an old roman Road! Imagine Romans walking along that old lane 1900 years ago!

Pix's Farm at 5 am, Bourne End, Grand Union Canal

Continuing the view around to Sharpes Lane Bridge, Bourne End

   On our first day there we saw: 4 horses and 2 goats in the field across from us; 36 Canada Geese and 6 goslings; a swan bathing in the early morning light, magpies, wrens, a mated pair of Cormorants, 4 Herons also in the field, waiting for frogs maybe??
   We watched a Moor hen make its way along followed by 8 feathery babies all looking like miniature escapees from Fraggle Rock, and a mother duck with three new babies. She sunned herself on the bank directly across from our bow while we watched for nearly an hour as one by one, her babies each figured out how to escape the water and settle beside their mother. The smallest chick was last, making several mock running attempts toward the bank, grabbing at leaves with its beak as it finally hoiked itself out of the canal.
   As the afternoon wore on were privy to a continual parade of Martins swooping and diving for sips of water, snatching insects on the wing. A walk up to the bridge allowed us to spy thousands of tiddlers (small fry) basking in a spot of sun warmed water. Later we spotted 15 Bream cruising slowly along the bank looking for spawning places. Bees hummed in the hedgerows, and life began to feel like the deep breath before bursting into glorious song.
   We spent two hectic days in Berkhamsted catching up with our wonderful friend Angela, whose home we moored in back of, checking out her neighborhood and the local market, walking along the streets of Berko with A. who played tour guide and generous hostess. We chatted about anything and everything as we three enjoyed the BEST Maple Cured, free range, Gammon (Ham) Rib Eye steak of our lives at The Old Mill Inn (Aubrey Allen--the Queen's butcher supplies the Mill Inn with cuts of meat). If its good enough for The Queen--its good enough for the three of us!
   While we were moored there another boating friend passed on her way to the Big Smoke. We were pleased as punch to see Kath on NB Bobcat coming our way. She pulled over and stopped for a cuppa and a slice of blueberry Lemon Drizzle cake while we caught up. It had been almost two years to the date since we saw Kath last in person up at Tixall Wide. Thanks for stopping. Enjoy the rest of your journey south and we look forward to seeing you again sooner than later! 
  We left on a sunny morning with a poesy of flowers resting on our bow--a sweet and thoughtful present from Ang as we headed out for Dudswell Lock where the donkeys are penned near the towpath in a huge, well manicured yard. Along the way I took the opportunity to manually haul the boat into a lock without using the lock ladders. I want to continue practising in and out, going up and down until I feel totally confident in my skills at single handing--at least in practice. 
   Moored up now in the quiet before the summit, I finally feel like I can breathe again. Five months of cruising south to London, waiting two weeks at Cassiobury in Watford, and making our way north again left my soul feeling pinched and strangled.
  On our anniversary Les took me to the Tring library, where we checked out some books and wandered around the village.
   We shared a delicious meal at Pizza Express in Berko, toasting to three amazing years of married life. We wanted to eat at Francesco's Italian Restaurant in Tring--a family affair with truly delicious food--but it didn't open until 6 pm and by the time we ate it would be difficult to catch of the final two buses of the evening back to Dudswell.
   Never mind, not only did we enjoy our pizza in Berko, we met up with another lovely friend on his way to dinner as well--Mike Wall of NB Independence. He is one of my two knights in shining armor who provided rides to Watford Hospital and the grocery store while Les was in hospital last Autumn.
  We walked up to Cow Roast Chandlery and picked up a Towpath Talk, stopping to sit on the lock gates and visit with Mike Griffin (our other shining knight). It is always a gift to see the face of a friend. As we walked back to the boat I took the opportunity to pick some Comfrey leaves from plants that had not yet set blossom, to tincture in olive oil for the making of salve later in the summer.
   We took advantage of the sunshine and washed three loads of clothes and hung it all out to dry, airing our pillows and down comforter as well. Sitting in the sun, reading our library books and eating lunch, we indulged in a bit of bank side gongoozling as we watched the hire boats and weekender's from the marina too-ing and froe-ing up and down the pound.
   Les has engaged in some handiwork, removing our Sky dish and repainting our satellite pole, cleaning up the tangle of wires on the bow and tidying things up. I whipped up wok of Kung Pao chicken with rice for dinner and we howled with laughter over Graham Norton's season finale show with comedians John Bishop, and  Brendan O'Carroll (Mrs. Brown). We've stayed up reading until 1:30 am, slept in, and finally chilled out!