21 August 2019 – Wednesday
In early Roman times, the week had 8 days, these were nundinal cycles, at the end of the cycle was a market day. Then in the first centuries of the first millennium it began to be replaced by the 7 day week. Saturdays, inherited from the Romans, are, obviously, named after Saturn. But what might not be so obvious is that this relationship of Saturday with Saturn persists across many more countries and religions than may be expected to be influenced by Rome – India, Thailand, Pakistan and even Japan.
There is confusion as to which day of the week Saturday is, the international standard ISO 8601, sets it as the 6th day, while Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) define Saturday as the 7th day. Hence some difference in opinion arises as to what is the day of rest, with Judaism regarding it as Saturday, while the Christian Sabbath even more confusingly is Sunday.
My last week really started on Tuesday.
That was the day I was asked to call into my chemo hospital as I had a particularly bad cough of the purest green. It turns out medical professionals don’t like green – it shows an infection. I coughed up a sample of green, taken away Simpsons style to be tested.
Thursday night and Friday night – I woke up with a start in the early hours – both times I felt like I was drowning, gasping for air. Then followed about 30 seconds of violent coughing, which it seems robbed my brain of oxygen and I started hallucinating on the side of the bed – for only about another 20-30 seconds – but scary enough.
So to Saturday…. I spent all day in A&E.
On the way I stopped at my favourite shop – Screwfix – to pick up a face mask – not medical grade, but I had been warned in no uncertain terms of the danger of a chemo patient going to a hospital full of sick people. So anything I could quickly do to protect myself I did.
There I was prodded and probed, handled and scanned. Resulting in all clear for blood clots, all clear for collapsed lungs, all clear for pneumonia and allegedly all clear of infection. But taking no chances the good doctor stuck me on a 7 day course of antibiotics.
Historically, there has only been one day of rest – Sunday. The present-day concept of the relatively longer weekend first arose in the industrial north of Britain in the early part of the nineteenth century, which allowed factory workers Saturday afternoon off. So while we’re all very happy to have 2 days off work, I’m also very glad that still much of society continues to provide a service at weekends. Thank you to all the staff at A&E, and thank you too of course to all the staff at Screwfix – otherwise my weekends would be empty.
So, it’s chemo day today – Wednesday – brought forward so I can be disconnected before Saturday when I fly off on holiday.
All was normal. The nurse takes blood, the nurse takes the piss, the bacon sandwich arrives, Everybody Loves Raymond is on TV (still!). Then a nurse enters in full biohazard gear – again the Simpsons. My purest green results are back. I’ve got a dose of haemohilus influenzae. They can’t spread it to themselves or, most importantly, other at risk chemo patients. I’m effectively in lock down.
Untreated it can cause meningitis; septicaemia; pneumonia; pericarditis; epiglottitis; spetic arthritis; cellultis; osteomyelitis.
According to the NHS website there are now only 20 cases a year. The antibiotics I got from the hospital are those recommended to tackle this stuff – thanks Doc.
The irony is – the nurse was pleased I wore a mask to A&E – so I didn’t spread my germs to others.
Up the Back Passage 