Snow Light

Lovely light at the end of the day

I was shovelling snow, to get out of the car park. Snow plough shut me in
I'm so grateful for my big beastie of a car in this

 

Cold, and a bit Lonely

Enough said...

 

Word For The Year...

... is Unblock

I have been finding it hard to get motivated, and some days, to get out of bed, and I fail at the least little catch-point, then find I have abandoned a good deal of work for the sake of getting finished. So, although this is not such a great image as last year's Renaissance , I think it may well be more useful

Image - full moon just about to breach the clouds, taken with my phone...

One Year Ago...

....today, I brought you home from the hospital after your last, futile surgery. The journey was frightful - I couldn't get the car close to the door of the hospital and there were no dropped pavements, so you had to walk that last bit to the car on unsteady legs and a walking frame.  And I was so relieved when we got indoors, and I got you to lie down and have something decent to eat and a nice cup of tea.. 

In your bed in the dining room, which was where you stayed. Yes, a few times we got you up and dressed and in front of the TV, and I did get you washed and sometimes got your hair washed and all those were so bloody hard to do. And you never got up again, not really.. I sat with you and watched you fade away, and we talked a little, and you read a little, and then all those things were gone too.. I found this image in my phone, sent from yours in November. I had a later one, but I can't find it..

And I think I am scared of losing the memories, and the security, and the pleasure of those things, and all and all..

I talk to you a lot, but you have got to be pretty poor at replying, although you have been, lately, in my dreams, which you almost never were when you were alive...

Oh, my love, I feel like I'm letting you down. I'm so tired, and lonely, and demotivated, and the house is a mess..

I did clean the bathroom, because that was always one of your jobs. Funny, though it doesn't get so grubby just from me washing there

ETA

Here it is

30th November, his last conscious day. We were mardling, and I took this with his phone and sent it to mine

Post-operative News

Well, I was all geared up and dressed and ready to go into my post-op appointment this lunchtime, and the phone rang.. 

Now, at the moment my phone is firmly off most of the time, and no-one who isn't known to me gets through...

And it was my lovely surgeon, who was stuck in traffic and, being efficient, was calling people who he was supposed to call later, to do "on the phone" consultations.. Not quite what I was expecting, but that's OK

And, as we are in agreement that things are improving steadily, and I am seriously happy with not having to go into a big hospital at the current emotionally-stressful time, all is good...

So, I burned another ceremonial fire of paper and brambles, and I'm slumped gently in front on the TV, and I'm soon to bed. Life, maybe, gets back to something I might regard as normal. I've packed some post, and I'll do some more tomorrow, perhaps I can catch up.. And the business will rearrange itself around me once more..

If you are reading this, please do not email me with comments, thanks

Two sorts of progress

The back is healing gently, I can walk a bit further each day, bend a little nearer my knees, and I'm managing with far less pharmacology, which is fine. I'm really tired, and that is not helped by being bored and trying to do too much, but that's totally in my nature. i slept for 3 hours this afternoon and woke up to the sound of much-welcome rain... I really don't want to have to take naps, seems just such a waste of the daytime
So, yes, perhaps life will be tolerable, and I may eventually not feel too disabled by all this, but that's a bit distant at the moment. I hate feeling needy, really don't want to ask for help all the time, and I get so very lonely. Phone calls and lunch-with-HB and emails are OK, but I really miss having a second person breathing in my space..

So, for you, my lovely man, so far, so very far..

It's almost 7 months since I looked around and found you had gone, between one breath and one not-breath, so quietly. I have found it so hard, I've been angry to the point of shouting at you so many times. I find myself in floods of tears from a tiny reminder. I know this is normal, but hey! it's not my idea of useful.

How dare you leave me with all this stuff to do!  I haven't got time to do all your jobs as well as mine. And I'm sorry I wasn't more appreciative of the small stuff you did every day.

The shouting is a waste of time, of course, because you really aren't here. I have known so many people who left, but didn't really leave; a presence, however tiny, would be such a comfort..It seems that an afterlife is dependent on your ideas, not mine...

All I have is little piles and big boxes and stacks of unsorted Stuff, and handwriting. Everywhere, labels, notebooks with cryptic oddments and sad little lists and a whole big box of cards and notes and odd things you wrote to me over 30 years..

Enough. I'm feeling sorry for myself, and that won't do..

Sleep well

Just been in for much-needed surgery...

...at the local private hospital, doing urgent elective work for the NHS at the moment.. 
I have had a minimally-invasive microdiscectomy, laminectomy, and nerve decompression.. I hope, soon, to have a working leg...

This post is an edited version of a couple of emails, saving on good writing and low energy! I sent this one just before I went in


<<Should only be in overnight, but I will have 6 weeks of no lifting, twisting, or bending (haven’t quite worked out how putting on socks goes with this*). I plan to take orders but not send anything for the sewing-machine stuff for three weeks at least. Did my last batch of post last night (four tescobags full (new measurement, officially recognised by the EU))

The hospital is private and only doing surgery; own room, shower etc, so not too appalling or noisy for a night. And the surgeon has a great reputation, and is something of a pessimist. I have had enough of optimistic surgeons; the one who last had his knives into John was full of “Oh, he’ll be home in three days and walking just fine” which turned out to be a nightmarishly noisy and disturbed 8 days and never walked further than the bathroom again… I prefer pessimistic.. He also has a terrific reputation and I keep coming across people he has fixed..

The pre-op stuff, which last time with John was 3-1/2 hours trailing round endless chunks of hospital with a wheelchair and Paul to push same, was almost all done on the phone, while I sat in the garden and drank tea.. I do hope this turns into a regular idea, as it is just so much better.. I had to go in on Tuesday for bloods, Covid test, and height-and-weight stuff, but that was OK, took less than an hour, and it was so nice to get out and drive my big car - it will probably be 6 weeks before I do that again. 

I also think that this weekend’s (July 4th) beach, bar, and brawling idiocies will cause another big flare and more lockdown, so I think my impeccable timing has managed another good strike…

Off to charge up my Kindle, which is full of new books, and pack my bag…

And my garden is just lovely, and Paul will come and cut the grass; Abi will come and do housework, I knew there was a reason for having children <grin>

>>

And just after I came out, 

Well, that was interesting. I now have a complete understanding of why people pay for medical treatment.. Large clean single rooms; quiet; windows you can open, see out of, and with trees outside. Very passable and freshly-prepared food and Hot hot drinks (although, as my hearing is pretty good, I did work out that us NHS-paid bods got a much simpler and less-exciting menu.) Lots of nurses -  I needed lots of help in the night and didn’t wait more than a minute or so for it to arrive… No middle-of-the-night blood-pressure checks - unless they were worried, they said most people can last 6 hours.. (That’s so hard if you are struggling to sleep)

No parking charges, or mad scrambles to park. More than enough spaces...

Probably the best local surgeon (by all accounts one of the best in the country) working there under the NHS with his entire team. He came in before and after surgery and again this morning, with no  trailing retinue of snotty students. He had lots of time to discuss treatment, future possible problems, etc. (I don’t mind teaching, but some of the students are beyond a joke unpleasant and/or condescending. Actually, I approve of teaching hospitals, as did John, but they make for rushed consultations most of the time)

No shortages of PPE, kit, equipment, ancilliary staff. Big clean nonscruffy towels in a nice wet-room bathroom (sadly, I didn’t get as much use out of that as I would have liked)

As compared with 5 nights in a store room (literally) at the Norfolk & Norwich (nurses coming and going all night to find stuff and a bed at a very funny angle), on a ward where the only Disabled-access bathroom was reserved for men. I appreciate that this was an “extra” bed and I needed it, but really!

(I did spend the last two nights at the N&N in a “private” room with ensuite shower etc. but that was because they did actually decide to treat me instead of umming and ahing. The private facilities at the N&N have been taken over by the NHS full-time)

There again, my spine is a permanent mess, I have lost 3cm in height (possibly more, that was before the surgery) and 90% of two discs, and I’m going to have to rejig my business yet again.. 

>>

I’m home, cat is keeping me company, I’m showered and fed and amazingly sore and so glad to be back in my nice peaceful space... I just need to stop myself going nuts with boredom and doing-too-much-too-soon (always a danger with me) and keep on taking the drugs...

*Turns out that socks, and picking-things-up-from-the-floor, and putting on shoes, is all down to yet more extremely ugly but functional gadgets, issued with instructions BEFORE the op by a charming and helpful and not-condescending Physiotherapist... She started in standard old-lady-speak, and transitioned extremely smoothly to you-know-what-you-are-talking-about technical terms.. I wish more medical bods would do this <sigh>. Then I got a check-up and are-you-managing-well-enough before I came home.

I have a spondylolisthesis at L5/S1, have not yet discovered the grade or whether anterior or posterior.. More stuff to ask!