Here you go - an ISS Lunar Transit from 22nd October 2019. Lucky because the weather has been, and is forecast to be, crap. Blue because it was a daytime transit.
ZWO ASI174MC on the C80ED-R refractor, 1936 x 1216 px raw .avi data at 160 FPS converted to 16 FPS. It's best viewed in full-screen at 1080p.
I thought that my recent unscheduled stay in hospital would mean missing this morning's ISS Solar Transit, but I was let out yesterday after only 10 days.
There were hardly any gaps in the cloud cover, but I got set up anyway. Luckily, a small gap appeared at just the right time and for just long enough to get the job done. The recently-acquired ZWO ASI174MC made light work of capturing full-frame (1936 x 1216 px) raw .avi data at 160 FPS.
Here's a clip, slowed to 4 FPS. It's best viewed in full-screen at 1080p.
And here's a cropped stack of the ISS. I think that it's a reasonable first effort:
I did exactly what they said - this morning I turned up on Day Ward for my "review". I'd even managed to turn up early, having not gone out for a beer and quiz last night. Even the traffic was in my favour - a mere 45 minutes from driveway to ward. Hell, I'd even had a bath!
I took my seat on Day Ward and the usual routine started... observations went well and all was fine. Then they tried to take a blood sample only to find that the PICC-line was blocked. It took two nurses over half an hour to get it flowing again. After I was sure that they'd taken the requisite number of blood samples and that they had been labelled correctly (often they aren't, due to problems with the label-printing gadget) I checked that it would be OK for me to go off-ward to the hospital canteen to get myself a hearty breakfast during the standard 90 minutes twixt sampling and results. After a thumbs-up I was off to stock up on carbs and protein, part of my ongoing effort to replace the 20lbs or so lost since Jan 2nd.
On my way there I met the Prof., who is head of Haematology. We passed and each said "hello", but I noted that she gave me a strange look. To be fair she always gives me strange looks, but this one was an order of magnitude more strange than her usual display. I walked on, wondering what to make of it.
On my way back to Day Ward after breakfast we met again and this time she wanted to talk to me, in a corridor as opposed to in the relative privacy of the Ward or in a consulting room, wanting to know why I was in. I explained that I was in Day Ward for review, and showed her my appointment card which clearly stated "Review" against today's date. She said that I wasn't on her review-list because I hadn't been "handed over to her" by the consultant who has dealt with me since my admission on Jan 2nd, and that consequently she hadn't reviewed the results of the bone marrow sample which I provided last Friday. She stated that I was four weeks post-chemo, which was wildly erroneous as I'm actually six weeks post-chemo cycle 1*. She said that I would have to attend Haemo Clinic to see her tomorrow, which wasn't something that had been discussed with me and so wasn't something that we'd planned for (usually these things are arranged at least one week in advance), and which will mean another short-notice half-day off work for Chris. I was told to return home, do not pass Go, do not to wait for the results of the blood-tests ordered earlier.
Of course, this confused the Hell out of the staff on Day Ward, who, last Friday, had gone to great lengths to shoe-horn me into today's busy schedule. It has also thrown the Haemo reception staff, who have had to perform a similar shoe-horning exercise to get me a late appointment tomorrow.
And it gets worse... I have to attend Day Ward again on Friday just to have the PICC-line's weekly dressing-change done. Several hours, another 40 miles on the clock, another fiver for parking and another fractured Friday just to have a glorified sticking-plaster replaced. I'll wager that after my being messed around today/tomorrow they won't find any way to get it done tomorrow instead of Friday, that sort of pragmatism seems to not fit with their policy of "fucking-up the patient's plans at every available opportunity".
*After some thought, I think that the Prof. might have it wrong. I think that she may be under the mistaken impression that I'm post-chemo cycle 2 and that I'm at the "big decision about future treatment options" stage. Yet I've been told many times that I'll have a second cycle of FLAG-IDA before that stage. My counts haven't recovered yet, so cycle 1 hasn't finished, let alone cycle 2. That would explain why I've not been "handed over to her" yet. But what do I know? That could have changed without anyone telling me. I'm merely the patient.
Of course, it's quite possible that she has me confused with someone else whose schedule she messes about on a whim.
Predictably, I am furious about the whole affair. I doubt that I'll be any happier during tomorrow's consultation if it turns out that there's been a screw-up.
This is me and the Prof., I'm the one with the hard-hat and no hair:
Late update:
I received an arrogant call from the Prof. at about 17:30, in one unbroken outpouring of words she stated that she'd reviewed the results and my records, and then told me what future treatment regime she had already arranged for me. She didn't allow for any debate, it was a declaration rather than a proposition. Gob-smacked, I told her that we would discuss the matter at tomorrow's consultation. She hung up, the whole call having taken a mere 42 seconds. Her "plan" doesn't align with what others in authority have told me would happen, and I think that it needs some sort of justification before it is imposed.
I don't think that I will survive a further seven weeks inside if this woman is to be directly overseeing my welfare. I can cope with living with cancer, I can cope with the treatment, but I can't cope with her lack of "people-skills".
Given the choice, I'd rather be "handed over" to Dr. Pepper. After all, "what's the worst that could happen?" At least I could put the cap back on when it gets too agitated.
One of two foxes that visit our garden almost every night:
