I was hungry after my third shower of the day at 10.30 last night. Weetabix was at hand and I ate 6 one after the other. This brought back fond memeories.

I was on holiday with my ex wife and two children. Whilst we were in Amroth we had been unable tofind any Weetabix in local shops. When we returned home my young son ate 6 before his appetite was fulfilled.

I miss my only son having no communication with hime for a long time now. The only time I have seen him has been at my Dad’s and Mum;s funeral. However’ I know that he is giving sterling support to my ex wife as she faces significant health challenges.

I’m ready for something to eat now. My first breakfast of the day. I bet you can guess what it will be.

I am bemused by the attitude of the Care Home I voluntarily spent 8 weeks in. As I tried to do my duty yesterday and seek an informal meeting to provide helpful feedback on my stay I was told that ‘you are no longer a resident.’

I am the first to admit that occasionally wake up in the morning a little confused about where I am. Such confusion soon passes as I start my day in my own home.

I just wonder why staff at the Care Home feel the need to remind me that I no longer reside with them?

Yesterdayevening I went into panick mode a GP at the EmergencyCare Unit at Grimsby Hospital had determined that I needed to take water tablets to address my dreadfully swollen legs. I found his diagnosis both concerning and worrying.

I wondered how less that five days ago one of the GP’s at my own Practice had made no such diagnosis: his remedy had been elevation. A football chant of ‘you don’t know what you’re doing’ came to mind. My legs remained as swollen as they had been for the last few weeks but now different GP’s had come up with radically different plans. The latter requiring me to take tablets and monitor my blood pressue on a daily bassis. With tests on my heart pending.

I tried to see my own GP today. That has not been possible aand he wo’nt be available until Thursday. In tthe mean time I have no intention of taking water tablets. I have been advised to keep my mobile phone handy at all times in case there are any changes in my condition. No need to panick: just need to ensure it is fully charged.

Youtube this man and you will see what I mean. Beautiful songs full meaning. I don’t know where Oconnor came from it must be those blasted miteds munching my memory

Things have been rather hectic lately as I try to deal with the impact of scabies. So I thought this song would tide me over for a few days.

Just chek out Christie Oconnor for this beautiful song.

It’s been a few years and there is lots to tell. In the next few days I will explain where I’ve been and what I have been doing. Hope you will be patient as I try to explain where I’ve been !

After a two weeks respite break, it’s taking me a while to get up to speed as Maureen’s Care Partner.  I was struggling last night when Maureen thought a woman was going to ‘steal her food and cause her harm.’  She also said that this woman had ‘taken her baby away.’  It took me a long time trying to reassure her that I would keep her safe and ease her into sleep on the sofa.

One good piece of news is that Maureen’s eye infection is clearing up.  The antibiotic cream prescribed over the phone by a Practice Nurse seems to be doing the trick.  Perhaps such minor concerns can be dealt with over the phone but we are really missing the support of our old GP who has retired.  He would have seen us at the drop of a hat!

As I type, Maureen is crying in the next bedroom and when I go to see her says: ‘help me get better’.  I reassured her that I’ll do my best!

As you will see Maureen was delighted with her Valentine’s Day present this morning:

Seeing the joy on her face this morning has persuaded me to go ahead with my birthday plans for next week.   I have had a chat with Thoresby Hall and they assure me they will do all they can to support us during our stay.   Positive risk-taking remains the way forward here we will never subscribe to ‘Prescribed Disengagement’.

N.B. I hope my editing of the photograph has shared  Maureen’s joy without compromising her independence.

Lyrics:

An old faded photograph, is hanging on the wall,
All dressed up, Dad by her side, standing proud and tall,
Now she shuffle’s when she walks, she can’t stand up straight,
Her dinner falling from her spoon, can’t help how her hands shake. 

Oh her memory’s grown foggy and she’s not sure who I am,
But I come by every Tuesday, just to hold her hand.

She loves to tell me stories, often the same one,
The night Dad snuck out from the house, for love about to come,
And finding her there sitting, on the front porch swing,
Handed her a metal washer, as a promise wedding ring. 

Oh her memory’s grown foggy and she’s not sure who I am,
But I come by every Tuesday, just to hold her hand.

I know the news will come, she’s with dad once again,
But I’ll make my weekly visits, sit down reach for her hand,
For there’s nothing I’d prefer to do, on a Tuesday night,
Then hold her hand and listen, to the stories she recites.

There’ll be other faded photographs, young mother’s babes in arms,
Fathers standing by their side, all are safe and warm.
They, too, will have their stories, but if they can’t make the words,
I will read them in their pretty eyes, and they’ll know that I’ve heard. 

Oh her memory’s grown foggy and she’s not sure who I am,
But I come by every Tuesday, just to hold her hand.

For there’s nothing I wish I could do, on this rainy night,
Than to hold her hand and listen, to the stories…
of her life.