annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On qi gong and vans Just a quickie, written Tuesday morning, before I go to Tuesday art. Yesterday qi gong was magic in that it makes you feel soothed and great but different in that previously I'd been part of a small group of gym members standing in a circle in the middle of a big sports hall while this group consists of people who attend a psychiatric recovery centre squashed into a room in a converted house. It was OK - only two of them were radiating scary levels of distress and unpredictability and they both were as calmed and chilled as the rest of us by the end, because qi gong is good stuff. I remember taking my friend M to a group at the gym once, when she was working as child protection officer at school (still with a full teaching load but also the go-to person for concerns about all kinds of abuse - sexual, physical, emotional and neglect - so that details are kept contained and not spread all over the school, and carrying it forward, sometimes to court). M thought it was all mad, all this swaying about, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, imagining you were holding a precious ball of energy - she couldn't catch my eye as she knew she'd laugh - but she phoned me later in the week to report that she'd been calm and focused and chilled all week, like never before, so yay for qi gong. I shall go every week. After that I wanted to take ED out to the woods - I'd had that arranged for Saturday but she was fast asleep, also on Sunday. But yesterday she was up and alert (they said) so after having a bit of a zizz I set off for the care home. She was up and in her chair, dozing on and off though not actually asleep - not alert, ffs. But where was her van? There are eight parking spaces outside the care home, for the three homes (they are owned by the same company but each one is in a separate single story building, with its own staff and ten residents, run like a family, but with the neighbours popping in and out). Staff can't park there as there'd be no room for anyone else and ED's van can be left there but has to be moved when space is needed for someone else - there's a lot of medical visits, deliveries, god knows what. It's usually at the end of the lane, back in the road, but no sign of it. She has a parking permit for zone B, which is bloody massive - I looked round the usual road - not there. It was hot and humid and I had a care worker booked to come with me because I'm still not fucking well, you bastards, but she can't drive so I couldn't send her to find it. I went back to the home to ask who'd parked it - lovely Carla, mentioned the other day, moved it on Monday before she left early to catch her flight to fucking Turkey for a holiday. No one had any idea so I had to tramp around zone B, residential but with quite a few of the big houses converted into old people's homes and rehab centres for homeless alcoholics and junkies, who are often in evidence, this time staring flatly at me as I stomped about, out of breath and muttering about how I told them this would happen, they need a system... I found it in the end and we went and the care worker was one that was quite new and fucking hard work. All the others I've ever been out with have been dead easy - I just ask one question - do you like care work? and they're off and we chat. This one was a bit yes/no and it was hot and we'd hit the rush hour and you could hear traffic in the woods all the time - it was a Sunday when I went before so silent. And I felt overwhelmed by ED's passivity - I have NO IDEA if she enjoyed any aspect of this outing or if she would rather have been left in the front room listening to Dwayne's endlessly changing musical selections on the ipad. And that became unbearable, but unlucky, as there's no choice. I am grateful for: Kind comments; a plan to swim in the sea this afternoon; Bloke walking Shirley after breakfast; maybe another writing class this Saturday - memoir writing, including structure, which I need; a lovely photo of my brother before he got ill, which SIL gave me for my birthday and which sits on my desk, just there, where I can look at his smiling face whenever I want Ciao, bellas, ciao 10:09 a.m. - 16.07.19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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