Obama and his health care bill. I think it's a good idea.
I think we should've implemented universal care a long time ago! I am very embarrassed that we are the last wealthy nation who doesn't have a universal healthcare system in place and a large majority of Americans would rather have their tax dollars fund a war or handed to crooks like AIG to squander than provide accessible health care to all its citizens. These are the same people who see everything wrong with Obama's health care reform but never present solutions, just endlessly blowing wind from their arse. And what's even more pathetic is they've NEVER read his policy! It's not like Obama's policy is locked up in a secret vault, you can read it online, you know. Instead, they'd rather get their info from FOX (Faux)news.
Maybe this graphic explanation will help these selfish, greedy dimwits see the light.
Showing posts with label NHS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NHS. Show all posts
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Mixed Nuts
It's a long way from the rugged streets of Belfast to the manicured lawns of suburban Northern California. Craig and I took a gruelling 11 hour flight last Saturday. Long flights are the bane of my existence but I can't say it wasn't interesting along the way. From Belfast to New Jersey, we met a lovely couple from Portadown. They are spending a two week holiday on the westside: 4 days in San Francisco, 4 days in LA, and 4 days in Vegas. Craig never understood how people can spend so little time in one place and move on to the next. Where's the fulfillment in that? I couldn't agree more but maybe they don't intend on visiting that part of the country ever again so they pack it all in two weeks. Whatever floats their boat! When we arrived in New Jersey, we chilled at the bar until our next flight. I was the only wimp who drank responsibly and ordered cranberry juice while the other three downed four pints! Before they went on to an earlier flight, we exchanged numbers so we can meetup in the city for dinner (and drinks).
From New Jersey to San Francisco, we met two dapper young gentlemen who are computer game designers. They are spending a week in San Francisco to attend a gaming convention. Both live just outside Belfast. They've never been to San Francisco and they were very excited. I really appreciated their constant barrage of probing questions about San Francisco. One important question was, "Where are the good Irish pubs in San Francisco?" I tell them there are none. You'd have to go to Ireland for that. They laughed. But all joking aside, I told them to check out the Sunset District because that's where most of the Irish in San Francisco reside. It's considered Little Ireland. You're bound to find a close to authentic pub there. My only respite from the barrage of questions was when the three of them had a drinking party! Yes, another one! Surprise, surprise! While Craig ordered his second, I was thinking how plastered he was going to be when my parents pick us up from the airport. Just great, my dad would love that. Fortunately, it didn't even make a dent.
It's so nice to be back home but it feels kind of different, kind of off. Like it isn't my home anymore, maybe because it's true. Nevertheless, it's nice to see my old room which hasn't changed since I left. Everything is in its original place.
We've been here two days so far and we've done fuck all because I fell ill. The first night I couldn't sleep because I was freaking out I was having a heart attack. I went to the ER the next day and found out it was only heartburn/acid reflux. The US healthcare system was a first for Craig. He couldn't get over the fact that I had to take my wallet out 3 times. One to pay for my initial visit, another to pay for my EKG, and another to pay for my meds. (Thank goodness I am still covered by insurance.) He was looking at the price list in the X-ray lab and couldn't believe how outrageous they were! But he was really impressed with the facilities, everything looks new and state of the art, everything is run efficiently. He was especially impressed with the wait time. There was no wait basically. And he says the doctors are different here, better bedside manners and they spend more time with patients. He says the NHS treats you like you're on an assembly line. "I guess you get what you pay for", he says.
Later in the day, Craig and my mom had their one on one time. They were watching the news in the living room. My mom asks, "So I heard on the news people are killing each other again in Northern Ireland? Why do the Catholics and Protestants hate each other?"
Craig responds in the most watered down, simplest kindergarten terms,"Well, there are some people who want to remain part of the UK. There are some people who want to break away from the UK and become a country with the Republic of Ireland. And there are some people who want to break away from the UK and become its own country."
My mom pauses for a moment and blinks. Then she says, "Oh. You want some mixed nuts?".
Craig bursted out laughing and says, "Yes, I wouldn't mind some. Northern Ireland is full of them."
Friday, August 22, 2008
Got Meds?
In Less Than Two Weeks, I will be on a plane back home to America. Land of free. Home of the Brave and Work like a slave to afford expensive healthcare.
Today, I had the all too familiar field trip to the NHS. I was running out of my prescription medication. I don't have enough to cover me before I left so Craig called his doctor earlier this week to make me an appointment. I checked in with the receptionist, she asked me if I was a permanent or temporary resident. I said that I am just visiting on a tourist visa. She told me to write down my name, address, date of birth, and doctor. I sat down and waited for my name to be flashed on the digital screen.
"....Flippinyank please report to Surgery 3...."
SURGERY?!?!? I find it interesting that they call doctor's offices surgeries here. It is sinister and freaks me out to no end. I feel like once I step into the exam room, I am going to be sliced open. So I report to surgery 3 and there was the doctor sitting at his desk. It didn't look clinical at all, but it looked like an old 1950's exam room where the doctor's office and exam table were self contained and it had those dividers. He greeted me and I explained to him the situation. He asked if I was under the NHS and I said no, but I consulted with the pharmacist and she said that I can have a doctor here write a private prescription. He examined the info on the bottle and wrote me a prescription. Off to the pharmacy I went. Which was across the hall.
I got it filled and the pharmacist was like it's three fifty since this is a private prescription. I was like £350?!?!?! No, he said, £3.50. Oh (phew!). Like the dork I am, I didn't have cash on hand. "Do you take visa?", I asked. He said, "No, we don't have a credit card machine. But there's a cash point at the garage across the street." So I ran and almost got ran over. I come back with the money breathless and sweaty. He says, "Sorry about that, we're not really technologically advanced."
I called me dad and said we're in the clear. I got the meds from Craig's doctor and it costed an equivalent of a whopping $7.00!!! There was silence at the other end of the phone. I could have sworn I heard a loud thump as if the phone hit the floor. My dad was astonished. He was like you might as well not come back. Since I quit my employer, and my insurance lapsed. My dad said he'd foot the bill if I couldn' t afford it, and he would send it to me. He found out without insurance, just one bottle would cost $400! Mind you, I got a private prescription and I am not under NHS. And it only cost $7.00. And the doctor gave me 2 months worth! Something is wrong here!
I am certainly not looking forward to coming back and dealing with this insurance crap. I'd have to find loopholes around getting health insurance since I have a pre-existing condition. Does this mean that I am going to have to look for yet another soul sucking office job so I won't die? This is the reason why I quit my job in the first place, to go back to school, get a higher degree, and finally pursue what I set out to do.. But...but...I'm not being a responsible citizen. Why don't have I have health insurance now? Why did I let it lapse. Oh, I don 't know. Maybe I can't afford $1,000 a month on COBRA. Also for me to have to choose between being with the man I love and living my life for me -- or being trapped in what felt like a coffin of a cubicle and watching my life slip before me to sacrifice myself as a productive American citizen (blackmailed into being a cog in the machine) JUST to keep my health insurance! Call me irresponsible, but sometimes you have to follow your heart. I'm sure if I'm ever at my deathbed and think about on my experience here and have no regrets at all. I took the chance, and did what made me happy.
Needless to say, I am not looking forward to going home thinking about all the crap I have to deal with. I have just one reason to come back home and that is...
My Maggie!
She is probably counting the days, minutes, and seconds for when I walk through that door and give her a great big hug. It is love, Yes!
Today, I had the all too familiar field trip to the NHS. I was running out of my prescription medication. I don't have enough to cover me before I left so Craig called his doctor earlier this week to make me an appointment. I checked in with the receptionist, she asked me if I was a permanent or temporary resident. I said that I am just visiting on a tourist visa. She told me to write down my name, address, date of birth, and doctor. I sat down and waited for my name to be flashed on the digital screen.
"....Flippinyank please report to Surgery 3...."
SURGERY?!?!? I find it interesting that they call doctor's offices surgeries here. It is sinister and freaks me out to no end. I feel like once I step into the exam room, I am going to be sliced open. So I report to surgery 3 and there was the doctor sitting at his desk. It didn't look clinical at all, but it looked like an old 1950's exam room where the doctor's office and exam table were self contained and it had those dividers. He greeted me and I explained to him the situation. He asked if I was under the NHS and I said no, but I consulted with the pharmacist and she said that I can have a doctor here write a private prescription. He examined the info on the bottle and wrote me a prescription. Off to the pharmacy I went. Which was across the hall.
I got it filled and the pharmacist was like it's three fifty since this is a private prescription. I was like £350?!?!?! No, he said, £3.50. Oh (phew!). Like the dork I am, I didn't have cash on hand. "Do you take visa?", I asked. He said, "No, we don't have a credit card machine. But there's a cash point at the garage across the street." So I ran and almost got ran over. I come back with the money breathless and sweaty. He says, "Sorry about that, we're not really technologically advanced."
I called me dad and said we're in the clear. I got the meds from Craig's doctor and it costed an equivalent of a whopping $7.00!!! There was silence at the other end of the phone. I could have sworn I heard a loud thump as if the phone hit the floor. My dad was astonished. He was like you might as well not come back. Since I quit my employer, and my insurance lapsed. My dad said he'd foot the bill if I couldn' t afford it, and he would send it to me. He found out without insurance, just one bottle would cost $400! Mind you, I got a private prescription and I am not under NHS. And it only cost $7.00. And the doctor gave me 2 months worth! Something is wrong here!
I am certainly not looking forward to coming back and dealing with this insurance crap. I'd have to find loopholes around getting health insurance since I have a pre-existing condition. Does this mean that I am going to have to look for yet another soul sucking office job so I won't die? This is the reason why I quit my job in the first place, to go back to school, get a higher degree, and finally pursue what I set out to do.. But...but...I'm not being a responsible citizen. Why don't have I have health insurance now? Why did I let it lapse. Oh, I don 't know. Maybe I can't afford $1,000 a month on COBRA. Also for me to have to choose between being with the man I love and living my life for me -- or being trapped in what felt like a coffin of a cubicle and watching my life slip before me to sacrifice myself as a productive American citizen (blackmailed into being a cog in the machine) JUST to keep my health insurance! Call me irresponsible, but sometimes you have to follow your heart. I'm sure if I'm ever at my deathbed and think about on my experience here and have no regrets at all. I took the chance, and did what made me happy.
Needless to say, I am not looking forward to going home thinking about all the crap I have to deal with. I have just one reason to come back home and that is...
She is probably counting the days, minutes, and seconds for when I walk through that door and give her a great big hug. It is love, Yes!
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Picnic at Belfast City Hospital
The past two days have been hell and I haven't slept very much lately. On Monday, Craig went to a coworker's house to fix his computer. Fixing computers led to the pub, Craig calling me 6 times sounding really wasted, and him coming home in the taxi shit-faced drunk. Before you accuse him of being an alcoholic, Craig honestly does not drink that much (a few Guinness here and there) and he absolutely HATES people getting drunk. Never in my life have I ever seen him like this.
His coworker calls and send Craig in a taxi because he is drunk. The taxi pulls up across the street, I struggle to get to the other side because our street is heavy traffic area and I was afraid he would get run over. He stumbles out of the taxi and opens the trunk of the taxi. The taxi driver gets out and says, "Why are you opening my boot?!?". I search Craig's pockets for his wallet because I didn't have any cash to pay the driver. The driver was like, "Who are you?!?!?". "I'm his girlfriend! Did he pay you for the taxi?" The taxi driver said that man who put him in a taxi did. Oh ok! Phew!
I drag him to the house as we stopped traffic. It was so embarassing. All the while, I was furious yelling at him that he's so fucked when he gets sober, and wait until his mom hears about this! I tell him to sit down in the living room like a drill sargeant. He complies. His eyes were glassy and so far gone! And great timing too, our roommate Connie was moving the rest of her stuff in and this was the first time she's ever met Craig. Connie was like, "Is he ok?!?". I whispered, he's drunk as I was talking to his mom on the phone. What a great first impression he made Connie. No wonder she locks her door every minute of the day. His mom told me that he is behaving unusually. He never gets drunk. He either just goes for coffee, if he does go out to drink, he just goes to bed but is never drunk.
So I tell him to go upstairs and he was limping and stumbling, all the while I'm freaking out because I've never cared for a drunk person ever in my life. I was hoping he'd just go to bed and sleep. He was walking up the stairs and I feared he'd lose balance fall backwards and break his neck! I screamed when he slipped! "Goddamn you!", I screamed. But he made it. He sat on the edge of the bed and started crying. I held him and asked him what was wrong. He just kept crying. I told him to lay down so he did sobbing into a pillow. He then fell asleep. I was like, thank god. I get the trash can and set it next to him. I wanted to get a glass of water but I didn't want him to be walking down three flights of stairs. So I sat there watching him breathe and making sure he was getting the right number of breaths per minute and his lips and nails aren't blue, take his pulse. I took a first aid training course a long time ago in college and one of the workshops was determining signs and symptoms of alcohol poisoning. Everything is in check. Afterwhile, he starts hyperventilating, I freak out and try to jar him awake for response. He starts sobbing again and clenching his teeth and grabbing everything in sight, including me, he pulls on my leg real hard, and then my wrist and wouldn't let go. I finally free myself and he reaches for the bedside lamp. Luckily, I got to the lamp before he did and took it away. Since I've never seen him in this condition, I had no idea how he would react so I kept my distance and called his mom.
I tell her he's being rough with me and he somehow, he suddenly wakes up and calms down. He heard I was talking to his mom, so he sat there quietly like a schoolboy in trouble. His mom comes and tells him to go to bed, and shape up! He undresses and falls asleep. I was afraid to go into bed with him for there's not telling what he might do so I was awake until he was deep asleep which was at 3am. By 4am, he came to and was awfully sick. And from there I was nursing him, giving him water, helping him piss, fixing him food. He said his ankle hurt. It was swollen pretty badly. I pegged it as a bad sprain so I elevated and iced it periodically.
Tuesday Morning - I finally got some shuteye around 7am. He woke up again and started vomitting so I had to get up again and give him water. It just stunk so bad, I was about to puke myself. I'm not good dealing with other people's body fluid issues. Come to think of it, not even my own. I had to clear the bucket and wash it out and stuff. He went back to sleep and I decided to stay awake and sterilize the bathroom and kitchen. That was how utterly disgusted I was!
I was helping him down and up the stairs to the toilet. I was pretty exhausted by then and quite delirious but I kept pressing. Around 6pm, his foot didn't look any better and he was in real pain. I walked to a pharmacy that was close by!!! The next pharmacy was a 25 min walk away. Fuck! What is it with this place? Are people not allowed to get sick after 6pm? This is when it really hit me that I really missed home. I miss how you can get anything at your fingertips and the convenience of a pharmacy practically on every block in SF such as Walgreens open 24 hours where you can get ibuprofen and a wrapping bandage before 6pm!!!! When we finally went to sleep that night he told me whie I was in a sleepy daze, "You are a better person that me, especially having to put up with such a wanker!". I moaned rolled over and stole all the duvet.
This morning the ankle wasn't any better. I went to the pharmacy around 8:30. It was still closed. I asked the shop next door what time it would be open, they helpfully said they didn't know. OK? So I come back and make fluffy pancakes w/ REAL maple syrup. We call the pharmacy and it is OPEN! Alleluia, he finally gets ibuprofen and I wrap his ankle. So enough was enough. Craig kept putting off the hospital and I forced him to go. We take a taxi at Belfast City Hospital. The taxi stopped across the way and he had to hop over to the ER. A nurse who had finished with a wheelchair brushed passed us and I yelled if we can use the wheelchair. She looks at us and hides the wheelchair in the corner. A kind woman wheels it over and made comment about the nurse, "I can't believe she walked by you and didn't even leave you the wheelchair! Hectic!". I wheeled Craig frantically looking for Accident and Emergency. We passed through I food court and gift shops, and I was like WTF? are we at the airport? What an odd layout. If you're at an ER entrance shouldn't the ER be right there? And of course, we had a defective wheelchair and it had it's own mind to go somewhere else.
We wait for awhile. And in my experience with the NHS so far, I packed us some sandwiches and drinks. Picnic at Belfast City Hospital! Yay! It was strange being in the emergency room of a hospital twice in the past two months. This time I was in the waiting room and Craig was seeing the doctor. I luckily didn't wait as long as Craig did for me (when I catapulted off his bike at 90 mph six weeks ago). They took xrays and it so happened that Craig seriously fractured his foot. If he put any more weight on it, he would have to get surgery! He has to stay off his foot for 6-8 weeks. He can't work because he's on his feet 8 hours a day. I got to sit with him while they plastered his cast. I took pics of Craig since it's the first time he's ever broken any bones. It's a milestone. First cast. The nurse yelled at me not to take pics in the hospital. What the fuck? They don't have any problems back home. I remember when my brother broke his foot, I took pics and the nurse even smiled and signed his cast! Fuck her.
The happy bunny!
On the bright side, we get to spend even more quality time with each other while I draw pictures of cocks on his cast for being a COCK! On the downside, we were supposed to go to Glasgow for 2 days next week. I suppose that's out and I would have lost out on $450 (no refund). Oh well!
Tune in to see what Craig does next week for more exciting, assinine adventures!
His coworker calls and send Craig in a taxi because he is drunk. The taxi pulls up across the street, I struggle to get to the other side because our street is heavy traffic area and I was afraid he would get run over. He stumbles out of the taxi and opens the trunk of the taxi. The taxi driver gets out and says, "Why are you opening my boot?!?". I search Craig's pockets for his wallet because I didn't have any cash to pay the driver. The driver was like, "Who are you?!?!?". "I'm his girlfriend! Did he pay you for the taxi?" The taxi driver said that man who put him in a taxi did. Oh ok! Phew!
I drag him to the house as we stopped traffic. It was so embarassing. All the while, I was furious yelling at him that he's so fucked when he gets sober, and wait until his mom hears about this! I tell him to sit down in the living room like a drill sargeant. He complies. His eyes were glassy and so far gone! And great timing too, our roommate Connie was moving the rest of her stuff in and this was the first time she's ever met Craig. Connie was like, "Is he ok?!?". I whispered, he's drunk as I was talking to his mom on the phone. What a great first impression he made Connie. No wonder she locks her door every minute of the day. His mom told me that he is behaving unusually. He never gets drunk. He either just goes for coffee, if he does go out to drink, he just goes to bed but is never drunk.
So I tell him to go upstairs and he was limping and stumbling, all the while I'm freaking out because I've never cared for a drunk person ever in my life. I was hoping he'd just go to bed and sleep. He was walking up the stairs and I feared he'd lose balance fall backwards and break his neck! I screamed when he slipped! "Goddamn you!", I screamed. But he made it. He sat on the edge of the bed and started crying. I held him and asked him what was wrong. He just kept crying. I told him to lay down so he did sobbing into a pillow. He then fell asleep. I was like, thank god. I get the trash can and set it next to him. I wanted to get a glass of water but I didn't want him to be walking down three flights of stairs. So I sat there watching him breathe and making sure he was getting the right number of breaths per minute and his lips and nails aren't blue, take his pulse. I took a first aid training course a long time ago in college and one of the workshops was determining signs and symptoms of alcohol poisoning. Everything is in check. Afterwhile, he starts hyperventilating, I freak out and try to jar him awake for response. He starts sobbing again and clenching his teeth and grabbing everything in sight, including me, he pulls on my leg real hard, and then my wrist and wouldn't let go. I finally free myself and he reaches for the bedside lamp. Luckily, I got to the lamp before he did and took it away. Since I've never seen him in this condition, I had no idea how he would react so I kept my distance and called his mom.
I tell her he's being rough with me and he somehow, he suddenly wakes up and calms down. He heard I was talking to his mom, so he sat there quietly like a schoolboy in trouble. His mom comes and tells him to go to bed, and shape up! He undresses and falls asleep. I was afraid to go into bed with him for there's not telling what he might do so I was awake until he was deep asleep which was at 3am. By 4am, he came to and was awfully sick. And from there I was nursing him, giving him water, helping him piss, fixing him food. He said his ankle hurt. It was swollen pretty badly. I pegged it as a bad sprain so I elevated and iced it periodically.
Tuesday Morning - I finally got some shuteye around 7am. He woke up again and started vomitting so I had to get up again and give him water. It just stunk so bad, I was about to puke myself. I'm not good dealing with other people's body fluid issues. Come to think of it, not even my own. I had to clear the bucket and wash it out and stuff. He went back to sleep and I decided to stay awake and sterilize the bathroom and kitchen. That was how utterly disgusted I was!
I was helping him down and up the stairs to the toilet. I was pretty exhausted by then and quite delirious but I kept pressing. Around 6pm, his foot didn't look any better and he was in real pain. I walked to a pharmacy that was close by!!! The next pharmacy was a 25 min walk away. Fuck! What is it with this place? Are people not allowed to get sick after 6pm? This is when it really hit me that I really missed home. I miss how you can get anything at your fingertips and the convenience of a pharmacy practically on every block in SF such as Walgreens open 24 hours where you can get ibuprofen and a wrapping bandage before 6pm!!!! When we finally went to sleep that night he told me whie I was in a sleepy daze, "You are a better person that me, especially having to put up with such a wanker!". I moaned rolled over and stole all the duvet.
This morning the ankle wasn't any better. I went to the pharmacy around 8:30. It was still closed. I asked the shop next door what time it would be open, they helpfully said they didn't know. OK? So I come back and make fluffy pancakes w/ REAL maple syrup. We call the pharmacy and it is OPEN! Alleluia, he finally gets ibuprofen and I wrap his ankle. So enough was enough. Craig kept putting off the hospital and I forced him to go. We take a taxi at Belfast City Hospital. The taxi stopped across the way and he had to hop over to the ER. A nurse who had finished with a wheelchair brushed passed us and I yelled if we can use the wheelchair. She looks at us and hides the wheelchair in the corner. A kind woman wheels it over and made comment about the nurse, "I can't believe she walked by you and didn't even leave you the wheelchair! Hectic!". I wheeled Craig frantically looking for Accident and Emergency. We passed through I food court and gift shops, and I was like WTF? are we at the airport? What an odd layout. If you're at an ER entrance shouldn't the ER be right there? And of course, we had a defective wheelchair and it had it's own mind to go somewhere else.
We wait for awhile. And in my experience with the NHS so far, I packed us some sandwiches and drinks. Picnic at Belfast City Hospital! Yay! It was strange being in the emergency room of a hospital twice in the past two months. This time I was in the waiting room and Craig was seeing the doctor. I luckily didn't wait as long as Craig did for me (when I catapulted off his bike at 90 mph six weeks ago). They took xrays and it so happened that Craig seriously fractured his foot. If he put any more weight on it, he would have to get surgery! He has to stay off his foot for 6-8 weeks. He can't work because he's on his feet 8 hours a day. I got to sit with him while they plastered his cast. I took pics of Craig since it's the first time he's ever broken any bones. It's a milestone. First cast. The nurse yelled at me not to take pics in the hospital. What the fuck? They don't have any problems back home. I remember when my brother broke his foot, I took pics and the nurse even smiled and signed his cast! Fuck her.
On the bright side, we get to spend even more quality time with each other while I draw pictures of cocks on his cast for being a COCK! On the downside, we were supposed to go to Glasgow for 2 days next week. I suppose that's out and I would have lost out on $450 (no refund). Oh well!
Tune in to see what Craig does next week for more exciting, assinine adventures!
Friday, June 20, 2008
A Grim Reminder of Home
I went to the post office today to pick up a parcel. Instead of the usual goodies my parents send me while I'm abroad, I get a stack of work related letters and bills. The letters from work immediately gave me feelings of anxiety and I can feel a wave of nausea from the pit of my stomach which begs the question...
Is it worth it to go back? I have been in the UK for almost 2 months now. Riding on the bus the other day in the middle of rush hour, I was surprised how people were generally mellow, calm, and quiet. I remember coming home from work on BART where everyone in the same boat was either, frantic on the cellphone talking about work, stressed out, or generally apathetic, tired and miserable.
I asked FH if this was usual, and he said more or less. People here just don't give a shit. At the end of the day, they leave work at work. They don't talk about work when they are at home. Also, he doesn't think they have as much stake as Americans in losing their job. They don't have to worry about losing their health insurance because they are covered by the NHS. I experienced the NHS firsthand when I was in that motorcycle accident four days into being here. They were very thorough...did xrays, cat scans, lab tests, administered drugs. And at the end there was no bill at all, you just walk out. I was amazed. All the while I was worried at how I was going to pay for all this.
Also they have a great social welfare system. If they lose their job, whether it be laid off, quit, or fired, they still get a check. Nobody ends up homeless here. If you see a homeless person on the street it's because they want to be there because they have subsidised housing from the government (nobody is ever refused). Yes, you pay taxes up the ying yang but I wonder if it's all worth it, living a stress free life, well not completely stress free but less than Americans have to fret over.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Daily Report Card
I've been here in Belfast for a week now and it has been action packed. Thought I would do a brief update on what I've been doing so far...
1) Settled in sweetie's abode on the SHANKHILL! (More on this later)
2) We shopped for groceries together and WE cooked our first meal, spaghetti bolognese! He seems to enjoy cooking with me and is a quick study! I taught him how to make American french toast which he loves! He eventually wanted to try his hand at it alone the next morning, he made me breakfast in bed. Awwww!
3)I met his friends A&J, a lovely couple who live 20 mins from Belfast! (More on this later) It was the first time I was on his motorcycle in a very long time and I was shitting in my pants.
4) Met his friend Micheal who owns a vintage clothing store. Sweetie had to buy new jeanw cuz he's getting fat. LOL!
5) Took a lovely ride along the coast and now I have lovely hemmorhoids. I have a few pics but I'll upload them later. Too lazy!
Now it's time to accompany him to his doctor's appointment and experience the NHS which basically consists of sitting in the waiting room for 8 hours until you are called (that is if you're not dead by then). FUN! FUN!
1) Settled in sweetie's abode on the SHANKHILL! (More on this later)
2) We shopped for groceries together and WE cooked our first meal, spaghetti bolognese! He seems to enjoy cooking with me and is a quick study! I taught him how to make American french toast which he loves! He eventually wanted to try his hand at it alone the next morning, he made me breakfast in bed. Awwww!
3)I met his friends A&J, a lovely couple who live 20 mins from Belfast! (More on this later) It was the first time I was on his motorcycle in a very long time and I was shitting in my pants.
4) Met his friend Micheal who owns a vintage clothing store. Sweetie had to buy new jeanw cuz he's getting fat. LOL!
5) Took a lovely ride along the coast and now I have lovely hemmorhoids. I have a few pics but I'll upload them later. Too lazy!
Now it's time to accompany him to his doctor's appointment and experience the NHS which basically consists of sitting in the waiting room for 8 hours until you are called (that is if you're not dead by then). FUN! FUN!
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