BANK HOLIDAY VISITING

Monday, May 6th, 2013

For once we had a scorchingly hot Bank Holiday Monday here in jolly old blighty and I was able to spend some time hacking away at the excesses of vegetation that had been ignored for far too long in some parts of the garden, before finally putting the new bench together which might seem brave after its delivery in March had immediately led to another month of winter, and then actually managing to sit on it for a while before the inevitable six months of summer rains set in.

All this activity had made me sweaty, so I had a quick bath before dragging myself back to the hospital for yet another round of hospital visiting.

I set off early because I really needed to pop into the supermarket to buy some of the perishables which would be making up my lunchtime sandwiches for the week, and immediately got stuck in a frustrating and horrendous traffic jam which seemed to be caused by the millions exiting Lyme Park after a day in the fun and sun, doing whatever it is that families do in great big parks on Bank Holiday Mondays...

Still, with that successfully negotiated, I was able to get into Sainsbury's mere moments before the tannoy announced that the store would be closing in fifteen minutes and I should make the last of my choices and head to the checkouts... So it was lucky, really, that I didn't decide that I was running late and leave it until after the visit to do my shopping.

The car park of the hospital was eerily quiet, but still insisted on the 24/7 principle of fleecing me for cash, even though I noticed a few other people seemed not to be bothering. That's always been my problem, I suppose... I've never been brave enough to break the rules because I seldom want to risk the consequences of doing so. This has happened in so many aspects of my life and explains a heck of a lot, I suppose...

I arrived to a bit of a surprise: Mum was sitting in her chair and not in bed as usual, although she really didn't like it and summoned a nurse just as soon as she could to get her transferred back onto the mattress, and I had to lurk in corridors again whilst this procedure occurred.

Later on this turned out to be my fault anyway as the nurses had decided that I might like to see her out of bed for once, which was a nice enough gesture, even though, as Bank Holiday Spectaculars go, it was something of a dud. They also told me that there was some dirty washing to be taken home with me which didn't really impress me as being much of a "star prize" either...

Whilst the nursing staff seem remarkably impressed with mum's progress, the lady herself seems somewhat depressed and is showing no interest in anything much other than being allowed to lie in bed and sleep when she chooses, and saying things like "Am I going to just be like this until I die...?" and "Am I talking properly...?" which tends to lead to have to give the kinds of pep talk that don't come all that easily to me, but I'm managing to come up with something somehow.

We plod along, trying to realise that it's still early days, that her "incident" is still comparitively recent and that she needs to be patient and realise that recovery is a slow process (never easy for an impatient patient), and that we still need to take things a day at a time, that she needs to do her physiotherapy and work upon her own recovery, and that we will take advice about her long-term lifestyle prospects as and when the doctors tell us how best to proceed, and how well she's done.

So when people now ask me how my mother is, I say that she's hanging on in there after the recent traumas, but it is becoming bloody exhausting again, even if it is far better than the alternative might have been...