I was slow in getting organised this morning and, before I could gather my thoughts to write something, Marilyn dragged me out the door. I'd forgotten a podiatrist appointment and you mustn't be late for those. The current podiatrist is an Irish fellow; he tells me he's enjoyed his time in Tassie but he and his girlfriend are heading back to the Emerald Isle at the end of this year. The owner of the business will be unhappy as she can't replace them. There's a real shortage of medical professionals in the Apple Isle.
There was a thick package in the letterbox when we arrived home from the appointment. It was the report of my recent visit from My Aged Care, page after page of comments about my weakness and failings, and suggestions about how they could be ameliorated. I didn't realise I was so disabled although I assume the young woman anticipated I would have deteriorated a bit more before the right support could be allocated.
Nowhere did it mention that I have difficulty making sense of government reports, and that is certainly an issue.
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