It’s been a week of some anxiety. Herself appeared to take a turn for the worse. A step change in her condition. A milestone on her way to eventual paralysis and total inability to communicate. The nursing home staff were shaken. The Auntie was devastated and preparing for an imminent death.
I spoke to the PSP specialist nurse, who reassured (?) me that ‘advanced stages’ could take months, or more. A step change would not be unusual, but nothing was going to happen soon. No need to panic.
I’ve spent the rest of the week Not Panicking and Not Going to Omagh. I phoned, and burbled to Herself about the nice GP with the orange toenails. I wondered about the arrangements for Herself’s visits to her house. Would she ever be there again? An anxious Occupational Therapist called- it may be time to move Herself from a wheelchair. For her to spend more time in bed, with only limited, supervised, sitting up. It may be time to limit/ cancel the going home, even if she recovers to being as well as she was last week.
I have impressed myself during this time of Not Panicking, by not eating chocolate. I did, however, make a cake. We all know that home made comfort food contains no calories.
And then, in all the dread and anxiety, a call from the nursing home. Herself is up and about, did reasonable walking with two carers, and is waiting on the bus to take her home. The trip is less about quality time in own surroundings; more about a change of scenery. We’re not sure she’s really fit for it, but we’re celebrating her enthusiasm, dogged determination and limited energy.
A weeble wobbles but it don’t fall down.
A wee boost for us all.