Dipping toes back in

Hello All. Hope you are well. We have had an interesting week. We are still tripping over our memories of Morecambe but it has only been a week so that is only to be expected. Thank you for all your messages of support. They were truly appreciated and helpful. We are not too bad most of the time, apart from our habit of dropping leftover chicken onto the kitchen floor. Firstly because it’s a bit heartbreaking when you realise he’s not going to pick it up and also because it’s a bit dangerous as chicken is a bit slippy on a wooden floor. You can’t be too careful.

We have dipped our toes back into bits and pieces of life as the week has gone on – including (see above) a church. It’s a church on our new road and we went to the Morning Service today. Obviously it is very early days and we are not here to pass judgement on anyone but everyone seemed nice. We did just go to the meeting and ran away afterwards – they all seemed to be sitting down to a full on Sunday roast afterwards which we were invited to but we weren’t ready for that. We will go again I think. Softly, softly.

I’ve also watched the first episode of His Dark Materials, which is very clever I think. I had never been too bothered about the books because of the anti-Christian rhetoric but, watching the first episode, that bit is so clunky and obvious it hasn’t troubled me so far. It’s beautiful to look at and HOH is very taken with Ruth Wilson’s presence (can’t argue with that to be fair).

Last week, Aged Parent finally got her diagnosis after her brain scan and it is Alzheimers. Because of the circumstances of our life over the last three years, no-one – Aged Parent included was too surprised. Her approach is “I don’t feel confused therefore I am not”. And, at this stage, that is enough I think. She has been under the care of an NHS crisis team since her sustained attempt to beat the International World Record for most ambulances called out in the shortest time period (extra points are awarded if they can’t find anything wrong with you). When I called the chief paramedic of the team to let her know the diagnosis – she shouted “Yes!”. After immediately apologising she said “It’s just that we can do so much more for her – and you – when we have a rock solid diagnosis”. So the idea is to move AP, as soon as they can’ to a housing scheme with 24/7 carer support, although she will still have her own front door. AP is properly thrilled with this development as she says that loneliness is her biggest problem and the place she is moving to has a thriving social scene.

A strange thing that happened was that the consultant apologised to me for the amount of time all this had taken. She had read back on APs notes and my emails and was horrified by what we had been doing alone. I don’t think we are anything special – in fact I know we are not. We know a few people dealing with families with these issues but it is nice not to feel so guilty all the time for falling short. Meanwhile AP is holding court like Princess Margaret as carers, Occ. Therapists, Physiotherapists and other assorted support workers come and go and she has never been happier. (Especially because her physio is a 6 foot tall black man who she has particularly taken to). I was musing the other day about how I had never really inherited my mother’s supreme confidence in her own attraction for the opposite sex – not that she ever did much about it – but it must be nice to be that happy in your own skin.

The times they are a you know whatting and we are slowly inching forward with them.