It isn't all gardening...
Yesterday I rang three numbers to find our respiratory nurse (and failed to reach her but left a message).
I rang the urology nurse and got hold of her first time.
Left a message for the neurology nurse who won't be in until tomorrow.
Rang the community children's nurse and reached her on the third attempt, she then rang me back twice and came to visit once.
Rang the girls' school once.
Rang the builder twice.
Called the prescriptions line to order some repeats.
Took a phonecall from the Occupational Therapist.
Took two phonecalls from the wheelchair supplier.
Played phone tag with the SENCo (special educational needs coordinator) from our local mainstream infant school.
Had an extremely complicated five way conversation over the phone trying to arrange a date to hold another pre-camp planning meeting (not disability related for once, still an extra commitment).
Taken a call from lift engineers determined to come in and service our lift (elevator, not hoist). The lift which lives in our old house, the house we moved out of over 4 years ago. The lift they called to arrange a service on last year, when we had the same conversation about how they would need to talk to the people who actually live in that house now. *
Today I have so far spoken to the respiratory nurse
Called the children's hospice and provisionally booked us in for a break soon (yay!)
Phoned our sitting service and provisionally booked sits for the girls to cover appointments and meetings.
I am now drawing breath (and giving time for people to respond to all the many messages left), before phoning the community occupational therapist, the prescriptions line again for items I forgot yesterday, and two social workers.
*Funny story - we moved out of that house because it wasn't really suitable for children with physical disabilities - it was a three storey Victorian Terrace with very tight narrow corridors and an inaccessible and unadaptable kitchen. The family who moved in, moved in because their house was not suitable for their daughter with physical disabilities, and our old place was, although not perfect, better than what they had. In turn, one of Mog's classmates from school and his family moved into the house vacated by the family who moved into our old house, because it was more suitable for children with physical disabilities than the house they were living in at the time! I did want to know who moved into their house, whether that too might have been a family with a disabled child but sadly I think the disability chain ended there.