Another weekend

another mother related panic.

This time I got a message that she couldn’t change channels on her tv, but not to worry, she’s just watch that one channel she could get, oh and by the way I’m off to put up new curtains.

Cue me frantically trying to persuade her that I would put the curtains up for her and sort out her tv again.

The tv problem was easily evident when I got there. She’s pressed the wrong input select button on her remote. A simple press of the “TV” button enabled channel changes again.

The distance between us is starting to become a real problem in my eyes. There are simple things to sort out, that would be easy if I lived round the corner, but a 90 minute car journey precludes that kind of thing.

The problems of being an only child manifest themselves in a myriad of ways.

She’s really suffering woth gout at the moment too, which means that getting out and about is almost impossible for her. My concerns about her are growing evermore each day.

I really don’t know what the solution is going to be: she won’t contemplate moving closer to us, and I can’t relocate my job, leaving us at a real impasse.

This year, life seems to be dealing me quite a nasty hand, and I’m still non the wiser how to play the hand I’ve been dealt.

Life and all it’s vagaries

there are some moments in life which are really hard. We visited Grandma Zilla this weekend, and whilst we did have a lovely time there were moments of sadness interspersed.

The weather was gorgeous, warm sunshine to bask in, but coupled with a nice steady breeze to prevent you overheating.

We went to the beach and the kids paddled in the sea whilst I set about damming a small stream that runs into the sea, in that manly father type way that we tend towards.

We then travelled inland a mile or so, traversing the hill and passing all the freshly shorn sheep on the way (some of whom have scant regard for cars, and will amble along the road at a pace to suit themselves, even shouts of “mint sauce” not provoking fear in them!) up to the stone circle*

* this is not in anyway on the same scale as Stonehenge etc, but merely a small collection of limestone rocks that have been put into a small circle with a diameter of about 12 feet.

My daughter likes to think of it as a fairy circle and imagine herself as one, dancing around the circle waving her magic wand.

All pleasant, happy things to do on a bright summer’s day.

Then certain moments can change your outlook completely: Grandma Zilla telling me that I shouldn’t get old, it’s horrible apparently.

I tried pointing out that the alternative to getting old isn’t much of a better choice: death!

She laughed, but she is clearly not a happy soul at the moment, her quality of life post stroke is not what she wants it to be.

I’m hoping it’s just a bad day she was having, but I sense on the phone soemtimes that things are not going great for her. It’s times like this that make living so far away difficult.

Swine Flu and War

the attendant panic surrounding this is now coming closer to home. The first “suspected” case in the office has arrived.

Although to be fair this woman has been panicking for weeks about contracting it. She now thinks she has symptms, but has not yet had it confirmed.

Am I alone in thinking that our country has hyped this dramatically? Nowhere else seems to have tehse front page headlines and media obssessions. I hope hindsight doesn’t prove me wrong on this, but I’m becoming rather indifferent to the news.

Currently the death rate is similar to that of any normal flu strain, yet people seem to be actively seeking out helathy people dying from it.

My approach somewhat reflects my attitude to members of the armed forces dying in Afghanistan. Er, you are fighting a war, there will be casualties as a matter of course. Especially if you’re fighting in a country that hasn’t been conquered in over a hundred years, and that’s despite the best efforts previously of the Russians!

Anyone signing up these days must appreciate that we seem to be in our most belligerent state since the second world war. We keep finding causes to fight, yet then get upset when our troops die? Cause and effect surely?

The link between swine flu and war seems clear to me though. We haven’t had a signifcant global conflict to cull the population numbers for a couple of generations now, so Mother Nature is stepping in to do the job herself.

Recap

Where to start? So much seems to have gone on.

Firstly my mother. She’s doing ok, and on a good day, when she’s not tired, I can understand about 90% of what she’s saying.

When she’s tired, she slurs her words more and is almost unintelligible.

She is up and down with her moods, which is pretty understandable, and in all honesty I don’t think I’d be coping as well as she is.

In another development to an already shit year, my boss died from bowel cancer. It was all pretty sudden, he was diagnosed and died within a three week period. They tried to operate, although it was already deemed terminal, to try and give him some extra time and a better quality of life, However he just wasn’t strong enough to get through the operation. An earlier diagnosis may have given him a better chance.

The suddenness of all this left a huge hole in my life. I’d worked with the guy for 13 years, and he was the father figure in my life, so his loss hit me quite hard on both a personal and work level.

It’s looking like they’re not going to replace him at work, which has meant me taking on a lot of the stuff he used to deal with. I’m always up for a fresh challenge, but this does feel pretty weird still. The extra cash doesn’t seem anywhere near enough either, but that’s not really an issue of importance. I still find myself thinking “wait till Geoff hears about that”, and then I realise that he’s not here anymore.

He was a great man, selfless and always helpful, and I truly hope I can follow in his footsteps with even half the grace and dignity he had. He was a great role model for how to conduct yourself, both professionally and personally, and I learnt  a lot from him.

In better news, the two eldest kids have done really well at school this year, both getting great reports and proving themselves to be very able. Our youngest starts nursery, part time, in September. Where the time has gone I just don’t know.

That’s the main news recapped, the day to day stuff can take over from now….

Finally some good news

after several weeks where my mother has sat on a hospital ward, waiting for one hour a week of speech therapy she is beinga llowed home.

Her speech has still not returned, but an alarm system has been fitted, so in an emergency, she simply presses a button and people are alerted to her plight.

I can go and pick her up from hospital tomorrow.

I’m not so stupid as to believe this is the panacea for all her ills. being at home will bring her new challenges and problems, but hopefully these will inspire her to improve her speech as soon as possible.

It’s progress at least, if not the end of the road.

All good things

come to an end.

The positivity of my mother has evaporated.

Last week she only had one session of speech therapy, and still has no idea of when she’ll get a move to the rehabilitation centre.

She’s trapped on a ward with virtual zombies and no end in sight.

Clearly she can’t go home, as the inability to speak would render her helpless in an emergency, but there must be some other solution to this predicament?

I’ve written down some questions for her to show her doctor, and am hoping they will write down their answers as requested, to enable some sort of dialogue to take place.

Update

things seem to be going fairly well at the moment.

My mum has got full mobility and no paralysis, which is itself a blessing.

Her speech is still non-existent, but she’s now receiving speech therapy.

The lack of speech (coupled with her inability to mime anything!) leads to a complex version of twenty questions when trying to ascertain whatever she needs.

She’s on the waiting list to move to a rehabilitation centre, which is more positive news: that being the first step to her getting home.

The whole family came up with me this time and we managed to spend the mornings doing different wonderful things, making it feel more like a sort of holiday than I expected.

The pace of life is so different up there and the opportunities for outdoor fun are almost limitless, with the sea, hills and lakes all within a 10 minute drive.

Having an old schol friend back in the area really helped too, we had great times as two families, watching our kids enjoy the things we did as youngsters.

The only down side is the mountain of work and emails that I’ve come back to, although given how badly things could be going I am grateful for the current scenario, rather than something much worse.

No news

is good news.

Grandma Zilla is stable and has started her speech therapy.

In lieu of anything else I’m treating this as a positive thing. I’m realistic enough to know that there will not be huge daily improvements. As long as she keeps making some sort of progress I’ll be happy.

As an aside to this episode, and to provide some light relief I thought I’d recount this tale from the weekend:

I stayed at my mother’s house whilst in the lakes, obviously, and on one trip out to the supermarket I began to question my own health. As I was reversing the car out of the drive I caught a glimpse of something, in the corner of my eye. It appeared to be some strange sort of creature, and I questioned whether my lack of sleep was causing me to see things.

When I got to the end of the road all became apparent. Round the bend there were six sheep stood in the middle of the road; so I hadn’t been seeing things! My mum’s house borders some fields, so I guessed they must have got through a gap in the fence.

As I approached them, they started to canter up the hill, with houses on either side they had no other option really. As we crested the hill, me never imagining myself herding sheep in this fashion, they headed off to a cul-de-sac, whilst I turned off onto a branch road.

I thought I’d do my good deed for the day and drive round to the nearest farm to let them know that some sheep were loose. I figured they could do damage to someone’s garden, or end up getting hit by a less careful driver.

When I pulled into the farm yard and knocked on the door I was greeted by the surliest farmer’s wife imaginable. I couldn’t imagine her offering eggs for sale with a sunny smile.

I explained why I was there, and she merely turned and shouted: “Frank, some bloody sheep have got out again!” before wandering off.

I was unsure what to do further, and was about to leave, when a man appeared, dressed exactly as I would expect a farmer to be attired.

I explained again to him what I’d seen, and then he asked me a question I didn’t expect: “What sort of sheep were they?”

Rather bemused, I said “Er, they had red dots on their coats.” In an attempt to enlighten him further.

He then replied “No, I mean what sort of breed were they?”

My face must have betrayed my lack of comprehension, so he then asked “What sort of faces did they have?”

Now, aside from the fact that I only saw their backsides as they ran ahead of my car , I am still at a loss as to what he expected from me – some sort of e-fit type description? One had a prominent nose and a scar on it’s left cheek?

I told him that I didn’t see their faces and he merely responded with “Well they might not be my bloody sheep! <sighed> I suppose I’d better take a look then” and shut the door in my face.

So much for  a word of thanks, my good deed went unacknowledged.

I thought farmers were supposed to be cheery characters?

Unbelievable

Just when I thought last week couldn’t get any worse, I got a phone call from a friend of my mother, telling me that she’s hada  suspected stroke.

My world went into a tailspin.

I got home and drove up to the hospital immediately.

When I got to the Medical Assessment Unit the person there barely resembled my mother. She was in a zombie like state.

She’s lost her speech and her movements were severely restricted. She didn’t seem to comprehend where she was or what was happening.

Thankfully by Friday she was able to move a little more freely, and doesn’t seem to have suffered any physical paralysis.

She was moved to a stroke ward, and an initial assessment carried out, along with a head scan to determine the site of the bleed.

Motor function wise she seems ok, if a little weak. Mentally she seems unable to maintain a train of thought, and is unable to read effectively. On Saturday she started writing down single words, so she has some limited form of communication.

Her lack of ability to string thought and words together is clearly causing her considerable frustration, understandably.

Yesterday I was managing to get a smile out of her, and her face seemed less droopy.

She didn’t see any doctors all weekend, and was put on pureed food, as her swallowing refelex is very weak.

Hopefully today we should get the results of her head scan and she should get a thorough speech and swallowing test, with some sort of treatment being started.

I simply can’t believe that after the terrible last year we had, she’s having to go through all this too. It just all seems so unfair.

Still in limbo

re coroner – who was in court all day yesterday.

Children can be damn nasty can’t they?

One of Godzooky 1’s “friends” told him that people who are cremated go to hell. Ignorant or malicious? I’m not sure, but it certainly upset him.

A few facts set him straight, but he’d been very upset at school. Why do kids believe that their friends know everything? As I put it to him: If they’re so clever then why do they need a teacher in class?