annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary


One way or another

I feel a bit shame-faced about my last post but one, but fuck it, that's how it was and it's better for me to have some evidence rather than whizzing past and on, as if helping my mentally compromised daughter into a residential home was just another bit of stuff that had to be dealt with.

Two things that made it worse were:

1) ED already being extremely, excessively confused, inarticulate, passive, exhausted - hardly a trace of her. This was either due to a major mix-up with her anti-depressants or was an episode of MS - it was only after my return home that Bloke reminded me of a previous episode that had affected her like this. June last year, when she ended up on a hospital ward, having steroids and a phenomenal and rapid improvement, but the whole thing, once she was better, became lost in the repercussions of YD's best friend dying. She's coming out the other side a bit now.

2. Then there's funding for ED's physio, which suddenly it seemed was separate from the funding for everything else and may not be in place - or it may, there are different views. Which is where we live now, in this shadowy place between having a national health service and not having one. I still don't have clarification, just a text today from the MS Nurse, saying "Funding request is being processed so she will get it. Hopefully soon." At the time I only saw 'she will get it' and thought we were done, but now I've noticed the second phrase - what is this 'soon'? It could mean by the end of the week, or by the end of this financial year. And 'hopefully' sin't great either. But there's money left in the fund, so I will check all this out and pay for it if necessary.

So these things made it even worse, but now a few days have passed and I have had some acupuncture and spent time with friends and family who let me cry and rant and generally have my feelings acknowledged (rather than telling me this is the right place for her as if that fact alone wasn't excruciatingly painful and it was possible to feel nothing but gratitude). I've slept well for two nights, with the help of pills someone else bought over the internet and I've got myself outside, today and yesterday. I've read back on quite a lot of this blog - was it Oscar who said one had to write a diary to provide amusement in one's old age? How true.

I've spoken to ED and she is OK. Not great - there are so many staff, on three eight-hour shifts, that she can't begin to get a handle on them yet (her sight is still too poor to be of any use in identifying), but she sounds OK, much better than when she was at home alone. People have been visiting her - YD is going tomorrow - and the guy that drives the accessible taxi has been seeking her out whenever he has cause to go there, which is most days. He's a bit of a knob, but a cheery, good-hearted knob with a distinctive voice and hearing him calling out her name puts a big grin on her face every time.

So on we go, putting one foot in front of the other.

Today I have been grateful for: My other two kids phoning and being well; furry boots; the rain stopping; the leaves almost off the shade-making tree out the back - when the sun comes out it will shine on my garden; spending the day alone, in a good way, not feeling lonely at all, just a bit peaceful.

Sweet dreams xxx

9:50 p.m. - 12.11.13


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