Hello. It’s wonderful to see you again and I’m so glad you made it. I need your help.
Posted in If We Were Having Coffee, Weekly Trail
Tagged #mondayblogs, #MondayCoffee, blogging, changes, feedback, humour, inspiration, monday, news, truth
Yoda, my Chrysler Voyager has been diagnosed with a broken clutch and damaged oil seals which have to be replaced. Poor car! Thank goodness I didn’t ask if the philange was okay. I’m not sure my mechanic watches Friends or has the same type of humour as I do.
On the upside, my daughter had a good day. She’s feeling better and had enough energy to do the dance because her dad told someone on the phone that he couldn’t hear them properly since his four kids were home from school. When asked how many girls and boys, he replied, “the oldest and youngest are boys and the two in the middle are girls.” She immediately jumped up and starting dancing, coming to whisper to me that she had been promoted! I asked why and she said, “because I’m not the youngest anymore. I’m now one of the Middle ones!” I couldn’t stop laughing.
Another big thing is that I joined up to NaNoWriMo! Yup! Watching all my blogging friends and fellow authors slowly add their names to the list encouraged me to take the plunge. So after day one (day three for those who make up their minds faster than I do!) I have managed to finish just over 4000 words. I’m happy with the storyline which is from a nightmare I had many years ago. I had jotted down the basic details and promised myself to one day write the book. I guess after about eighteen years, that day has come! Some of my poems and notes for stories date back further than that so when I say I have a backlog of books that need to be written, I’m not joking!
Let’s see, what else is new? Oh yes, lots of lovely miracles happening to good friends and old friends. Whilst things might be a bit awry in our personal lives, the people around us are keeping us afloat with joyful news all the time. It’s a blessing to have positive vibes feeding back into our lives.
All in all, it’s not the most awful start to the week. Yoda will come back to us, stronger and with the full powers he lacked before. School starts tomorrow for all my sprogs so I will have a quiet house to write in.
Nothing is ever stagnant in life, unless we allow it to become so.
Hope you all have a good week and if you’re a fellow WriMo, please stop and say hi! I’ll be glad for the company.
Ever feel like cranking the music up and dancing like a crazy person at the end of a loooong Monday? Well that’s exactly what I did today. Tuna bake for dinner…done! Kids’ homework, reading and arguments over nothing and everything…done! We hadn’t even touched 6.30pm yet and the prospect of curling up on the sofa, sifting through blogs at a leisurely pace was replaced with, “Mum, can we play musical statues? We watched so much TV this weekend I wanna dance!”
Now this might not be normal in some families, but in mine, this is quite acceptable. From my first child to the last, I’ve encouraged dancing. No specific type of music; anything that has life and a beat has us swinging and swishing, bopping and jumping till we are breathless. This is something indescribable about moving your body to a rhythm, feeling it and laughing as you watching tiny people mimicking your moves. The crazier they are, the more the laughter. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, dancing is of course fun!
The long ride to the hospital tonight was great. My eldest daughter decided to come for a ride and we sang at the tops of our voices to our favourite cd, Maroon 5. Finding a ward full of smiling elderly ladies welcoming our presence and greeting us like long lost friends warmed our hearts. My mum felt chatty today too and surprised the nurses with full audible sentences. A really great visit. Did I mention I gave her a hair cut. It was so matted from the operation and weeks in hospital, I decided to give her a short cut that accented her pretty features. I think she likes it. Hopefully!
So, to sum up, it’s been an awesome Monday and touch wood, the rest of the week will flow positively. Now it’s your turn. How was your day? Anything interesting happen this weekend?
Looking forward to hearing from you on your day. 🙂
As Monday draws to a close, I sit here thinking of the highs and lows my family have gone through over the past few weeks. For those who don’t know, my mum suffered a fall at her nursing home and had a severe bleed to the brain. After two operations to remove the blood clots left behind, she has now been transferred back to our local hospital, still under critical care.
I think the lowest day was when she went in for her second operation. I was called into a private room by one of the junior neurosurgeons. He was given the task of explaining to me that the medical team had agreed not to resuscitate my mum if she coded on the operating table. I was informed she didn’t meet the mark for ICU care. He watched me silently and I fidgeted under his gaze. Was I supposed to break down and cry? Was he waiting for me to become hysterical? He kept repeating the words until I asked him if I should be reacting differently; should I fight for her and refuse the DNR status. He kindly informed me it wasn’t my decision to make. So why the long pauses?
My highest moment was seeing my mum open her eyes after the second operation and speak to me. I could understand most of her words and I felt so happy to hear her again. Just the little cheeky grin, a giggle at my youngest son’s antics was enough to make me feel whole again.
I’ve reached a plateau. The brain has to heal. We have to heal as a family. I have to be patient and stop pushing the doctors, but I fear the lack of momentum means they will push her back to the nursing home without rehabilitation. Another statistic in care that doesn’t need to improve her life. I fear that as I watch my mother slowly realise her predicament the light will die out in her eyes and she will relinquish her fragile hold on life. Already paralysed on the left side, this recent haemorrhage has caused a weakness on her right side. She doesn’t respond to her right foot being tickled.
As this night draws out I think of what the future holds. What we once considered difficult has now increased to impossible. The hope we once held is further in the distance. I’m sitting on the plateau and I’m happy not to move. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to stay where we are right now. Pity I’m not that kind of person. What would you do?
I’ve missed you all so much. It’s been a very long week and even longer weekend. My mum had the operation over the weekend and is still unresponsive. The wait is still not over. It’s makes me think of times when I was a child and my mum used to tell me to be patient. Wait! It will come in good time. Well, what if the waiting is not worth it?
How many years of our lives do we spend waiting for something good to happen, our dreams to come true, the man/woman you love to notice you? When does the waiting stop and action begin?
I want to shake the doctors, shake the nurses and scream at them to stop waiting and assessing and actually do something. Yes, I am ranting. I am impatient and finding it hard to get a grip; but wouldn’t you feel the same if you’ve been constantly pushing the medical profession to notice changes they should point out or push for results and scans they should be performing?
I had a lovely chat with a helpful nurse on Saturday. She kindly listened to my long story about my mother’s medical history. It’s practically become a song I sing to every new person I meet that is assigned to Mum. Once I had run through the spiel, she smiled and said, “you know, your mother is lucky you’re here to tell us about these little changes that you notice in her. If you hadn’t told me that she is less responsive today than yesterday when she returned from the operation, I wouldn’t have worried about the obs results and called the doc to order another CT! Keep telling us what you see. It may save your mother’s life! ”
I was distraught. I knew I wouldn’t be able to drive the hour long trip today to be with Mum and now had a huge fear hanging over my head that they wouldn’t notice any changes in her today, when I’m not there. Phoning doesn’t help. They give the same answers to my questions and promise the doctor will call in the afternoon. He doesn’t. He’s busy with the hundreds of patients. My mum is invisible again and I am the only one shining a beam on her for them to notice subtle changes.
It’s been a long Monday trying to catch up with the house, the kids and writing. It’s been even longer hoping that my mum would wake up fully and respond to commands…communicate…live.
Let’s hope Tuesday will be better.