vickygoestravelling

my journey to health and well being via exotic destinations


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Hip, hip for the NHS!

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The Scarlatinas on stage. Marc Hayward (centre) was a pal of Louise’s

This has been a busy seven days one way and another. The big event was the marking of the 6th anniversary of Louise’s death and we celebrated with a memorial gig at Nambucca organised by her friends. One or two oldies came to raise the average age a bit, but it was great to be with her gang, in a place she loved to dance.

One other major recent preoccupation has been the state of my hip, the broken one, rather than my sarcoma leg. I started the process of trying to see a consultant before Christmas, and after many false starts, and cancelled appointments, caused by my referral going astray between the GP and UCLH (aaargh), I finally received an appointment before the cancelled one to see Prof Haddad, the man by all accounts.

Meanwhile, I was hedging my bets and had been to see a Swiss GP and got some MRIs on the Swiss insurance, which is my back stop. In the UK I am not covered for a pre-existing condition – though this experience made me take out a policy with SAGA pretty pronto for the princely sum of £142 pm which is I think a bargain. Cigna was quoting £16,000 pa!

So far my NHS experiences had been great – the Marsden before xmas was a breeze, in and out in 1 hour with 2 consultant appointments plus a x-ray; my bone density scan at the Royal Free last week was 2 minutes early, and she scanned the other hip for good measure; and today the Trauma Clinic at UCLH started well, with the registrar ushering me into his office bang on time. Of course I shouldn’t have expected to see (although secretly hoping) the Prof as I was told the appointment was with him ‘or one of his team’.

Babar was charm incarnate, took my history, waggled my leg around (admired my sarcoma scars of course, as any professional does) and then sent me off for an x-ray. And this is where you see the poor old NHS stretched to its limits – there are walk-ins, people like me sent down from upstairs and pre-booked appointments. A couple of people were getting a bit irate at having to wait so long – I was there 1 hours 20 minutes – but a nurse soothed and sorted them; there were babies running around, elderly people in wheel chairs and the terminally ill. One big hot pot.

The x-ray itself was quick and efficient and soon I was back upstairs, and Babar took me in immediately. Sadly he was unable to read my Swiss MRIs so I will have to have some more done here. The x-ray shows my right hip has collapsed, as well as having necrosis. So he recommends a replacement. And, joy of joys, my charm offensive must have worked as he’s putting me on Haddad’s list, although the waiting list might be 12 rather than the 8 weeks for the normal clinic.

It must be the words, spoken dead pan, ‘I might not have much time left and I want to live my life to the full’. I think he sees though me, as he says, ‘You don’t really think that’. And of course I say, ‘No, but its useful for those violin moments you need to conjure up in the NHS’ and we both laugh.

So it’s a result and, so far, hurrah for the NHS!


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Colourful Colmar

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Chocolate-box-pretty Colmar

Now in Basel for the weekend, long-arranged as Ross was in the US last week.  I thought it would be fun to join him here, as our mountain apartment is being lent out. In fact the weather is lovely and we spend most of Saturday looking at new cars, difficult in German, as understanding the complicated specs of vehicles these days is challenging in any language, let alone a foreign one!

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I’m still here…

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The view from our apartment of those fabulous Dents du Midi

I received a text this morning from a friend enquiring if I was still  alive. ‘How are you and where are you? No blogging’. So I realised I had been remiss. I think it must have been dry January rendering me speechless! Thank God that’s over… Continue reading

Three years clear!

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Reposting this from my Healthy Living with Cancer blog….all part of the journey

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22239_245584604708_511244708_3137715_6127093_nThis is always a difficult time of year for me. Firstly, 7 December is our daughter Louise’s birthday. She would have been 27 last week, but instead she is forever a glorious 21 – young and beautiful. We celebrated her life with some close friends at the Bench last week and later in the Steele’s where we held her wake.

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Israel 3: visiting Bethlehem and the Palestinian Authority

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View from Mount of Olives

My driver G turns up early on my last day, to take me to places that people don’t normally go. He suggests that my itinerary is a bit tame, and says really I should go further afield, to Bethlehem, which lies in the Palestinian Authority, take in some new settlements and see more of the wall. He says it will be more interesting. I say that I defer to his judgment, when I should have said ‘So how much extra with this be?’ After we have agreed on the new itinerary, he says, diffidently, that it will of course cost more. As it turns out, exactly what I have in my wallet. ‘God must have meant for this to happen’ I say to him. He is a Christian Arab as a matter of fact, a Catholic; there are only 10-12,000 in Jerusalem compared to 530,000 Jews and 350,000 Muslims. He says they are having a hard time and are discriminated against by both sides. Continue reading


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Jerusalem: searching the Central Zionist Archives for clues

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The Dome of the Rock from the Mount of Olives

The three days in Tel Aviv fly and I have to move on to Jerusalem. I choose the train, cheap and scenic. Like all Unwins I am horribly early and mooch around waiting. When it comes to board, I am not surprised that no one lifts a finger to help me, despite my limp and large unwieldy case, stuffed with Christmas cake, shortbread and gifts for cousin Helen. The scenery on the trip is pretty, in an arid sort of way, fertile fields, recently tilled, orange groves and vineyards bordered by magenta bougainvillea, giving way to a steep ascent thorugh rugged hills, larches and conifers before levelling out on the Jerusalem plateau. I have arrived! Continue reading


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Tel Aviv: on a mission to unlock the family secrets (1)

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I feel ambivalent about coming to Israel: I would never had considered coming here had I not learned about my Jewish ancestry. As a girl I was an avid boycotter of Jaffa oranges and supporter of Palestinian rights, and closed my mind to it – no doubt out of ignorance as much as anything else. But the discovery of two elderly cousins living in Tel Aviv and Jerusalem respectively has forced the U-turn in order to research my book, and also to reappraise my  opinions with an open mind. I am told Israel is not as one might imagine. So let’s see! Continue reading


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Prague: in the footsteps of Hermann Ungar

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Prague Castle from Charles Bridge

Today, 25th October, my father would have been 93 and here I am in Prague, retracing his childhood haunts. I have asked a genealogist, Julius Muller, who has helped me trace my Prague relatives before, to accompany me on my trip today. In the research I am doing for the book on my Jewish family history, I came across the addresses where my grandfather lived as a student, as a young lawyer and then banker, and finally as a diplomat and family man when he returned to Prague after five years in Berlin. Continue reading


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On bereavement & grief – thanks Julian Barnes for expressing it so beautifully

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Christmas Day, Louise about 12/13

Returning to London after more than three and half years away has been an emotional time. Our newly renovated house (not quite finished) is haunted by the absence of Louise, whose laughter, colour and noise filled every room like that cliched ray of sunshine. Even though the house is configured differently, it still feels like home, our happy home, that we shared as a perfect family of four. Continue reading