How quickly ones high hopes can be dashed because of others who don't think about what they are doing, or not doing as the case may be.
First off I called the secretary to the Consultant dealing with cleo's case this morning, to chase up the family meeting that had been promised last week to be told there were no appointments available throughout December. I made the point that it had been promised, and that if that were the case then a promise should NOT have been made. Anyway, at that point i thought, OK, I will be better dealing with this when i am in the hospital this afternoon, so..
I got to the hospital just before 2pm today, only to find that cleo had been moved from the bay where she was, near the nurse's station to the "day room"; quite a relaxing large room at the side of the ward, with a lounge feel to it. In the room there were just two beds, cleo's and another lady well on the way to recovery.
cleo lit up as I arrived; she was sitting in her wheelchair, and was happy, waiting to go off to physiotherapy again, and as determined as yesterday. I was pleased that she was in such good spirits, and she looked, and sounded better than yesterday. Even her talking seemed improved. She was smiling, and joking. She told me she saw the consultant on his rounds this morning, but nothing specific was said.
A few minutes later the other lady in the room was taken off for physio, and the girl who collected her said cleo would be collected by James for her physio in a while. Everything was going according to plan.
Enter a nursing assistant who said "You are supposed to be on bedrest, I have to get you into bed" "pardon me?" I replied. "Bedrest, you are on bedrest" "Ok, I think you had better get the Sister in here, right now!"
Off she goes and a minute or two in comes the Ward Sister. By this time, cleo is in tears, because nobody has said anything to her, and I am starting to get really annoyed. She quite casually told us that she, and the consultant had decided after the round that because they were still not sure quite what caused the stroke, and there was a possibility of there still being a blood clot somewhere, that 24 hours in bed while they did some more tests was appropriate.
Hello, what about the patient? Don't they get to know too?
Of course, and I accept the reasoning fully, but for Christ's sake, Tell us! I went on to point out that here we have a 50 year old woman, who wants to be involved in her rehabilitation, she wants to know whats happening, and she wants to be included in the decisions that are made about her. Surely that's not too much to ask, is it ?
I do not scream and shout, but I do make my points forcefully, and clearly, which I did there and then. It also transpired that the physiotherapists had also not been told of this decision: they could have come in, taken cleo off to do an hours workout blissfully unaware of all this, when the consequences could have been disastrous. I have now insisted that we have our appointment with the consultant: funny that they suddenly found an appointment available, and there is also going to be a "family meet the team" session for me, cleo, and the girls on friday, where all those involved in her care will be present, to enable us to ask questions, and better understand what's happening.
Why this could only happen as a result of someone having to get angry I do not know. I will pursue this, because frankly it stinks. From now on I shall be grilling the medical team daily to ensure that all is right, and that cleo is fully informed of anything that has any consequence regarding her care. When I say grilling, I mean "Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition"(remember the Monty Python sketch?)
It's so laughable really, that if it were not so serious it would be the stuff of comedy. However it's not, and the consequences could have been dire to say the least!
So, with cleo now upset again, physio cancelled and back to bed pans, all the last few days' good work is undone by one moment of idiocy. This could all have been avoided if they had simply talked to her, and not about her. It won't happen again, believe me.
That said, cleo was allowed to have a bath this morning (she loves a bath!) and as I mentioned she looked great when I arrived, hair washed, and very chirpy. If only these people had considered what effect their lack of communication with the most important person could have had.
Anyway, back home to get the girls, and I have to tell them the news that they won't be able to take mum for a coffee like yesterday, and I explain what's happened, and why. They understand of course, but it's obvious they are unhappy, too. We buy coffee on the way to the ward and take the drinks with us, and at the end of visiting we leave cleo happy again, and about to watch "Grease" on her portable DVD player.
Home now, we feasted on chinese takeaway and the kids are staying with me this evening. It's so good to have them home where they should be, and that might just be next weeks campaign: Get the Kids Back Home. We will see, and maybe a call to the family solicitor will help.
Keep Talking
As Pink Floyd so succinctly put in their song Keep Talking:
"For millions of years mankind lived just like the animals
Then something happened which unleashed the power of our
imagination
We learned to talk
There's a silence surrounding me
I can't seem to think straight
I'll sit in the corner
No one can bother me
I think I should speak now
I can't seem to speak now
My words won't come out right
I feel like I'm drowning
I'm feeling weak now
But I can't show my weakness
I sometimes wonder
Where do we go from here
It doesn't have to be like this
All we need to do is make sure we keep talking
Why won't you talk to me
You never talk to me
What are you thinking
What are you feeling
Why won't you talk to me
You never talk to me
What are you thinking
Where do we go from here
It doesn't have to be like this
All we need to do is make sure we keep talking
Why won't you talk to me
You never talk to me
What are you thinking
What are you feeling
Why won't you talk to me
You never talk to me
What are you thinking
What are you feeling
I feel like I'm drowning
You know I can't breathe now
We're going nowhere
We're going nowhere"
The NHS may be a huge lumbering beast which goes on regardless, but it hasn't come up against me before.
Well, it has now!
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Day 9 - First Date
Today has been overall a good day.
On arrival at the hospital this afternoon, cleo was sitting up again, and looking every bit as good as yesterday. The ward had provided a special "stroke chair" for her a few days ago, which is height adjustable, with drop down arms, but of course these only work if they are adjusted correctly. We were told the importance of keeping cleo's feet on a small footrest provided with the chair, for support especially to her paralysed leg; my first observation when i walked in was "where's the footrest?". Now, cleo cant get out of the chair on her own, and it seems that there are only 4 nurses for the whole ward today. It takes so long to get everyone fed and washed, and up in the morning that she apparently lay in her bed till nearly midday, when she was raring to get sat up. The fact that there are not enough staff means that they do not have the time to ensure each patient is properly dealt with, hence the missing footrest. It was simply under the bed. So I am down on my knees pulling this rest out, and loudly moaning about not getting things properly organised...when out of nowhere comes James, the head physiotherapist.
We agree that she will go to the gym with James, and they produce a wheelchair immediately.
The transfer into the wheelchair makes cleo look far more comfortable, and the footrests that are part of the wheelchair seem to work far better for her than the wooden one that was supplied with the chair.
So it's off to the gym, and an hour's solid workout which included exercises to get her shoulder and arm working followed by standing, balance and walking exercises. While she is very unstable right now, it is evident of her determination to work as hard as possible on this.
She is asking questions, trying to understand the reason for each move, and the benefit that each will bring. The most trying moment was when they had her standing, and trying move her leg forward in a walking action: at the moment it wont go on its own, but just to see the strain on her face, trying so hard to will the leg to move, was great. I have no doubt that this determination and fighting spirit, provided we can keep her spirits up and her focus on it, will be the deciding factor in the time it takes to get her out of the hospital, and just how much she actually recovers. At this rate it will be soon, and she will be good as new!
Talking about timings, Matron was suggesting yesterday that we might even get her home for Christmas, and she said the same to James, the physio. So far they have not poo-pooed that goal, and she is absolutely determined to be out by 17th December. The next 3 weeks will be tough, but we will all do whatever we can.
After getting back from physio, I had to dash home to collect the girls from school. I suggested to the nurses that when we all got back we could wheel cleo to the patients restaurant and have a coffee. So we made a date. I told her to get her gladrags on as we were going out. This was considered a good idea, and so, arriving back with Sarah and Hannah we duly set off, signing cleo out of the ward, and pushed her to the restaurant where we sat for half an hour chatting and having coffee. That was a nice break for cleo, because as a friend pointed out you can very quickly go "stir crazy" in a hospital ward. Our first date went quite well.
I think she likes me.
I was born to love you..
I am reminded for some reason this evening of the Queen Song, penned by the late great Freddie Mercury, the words of which sum up how i feel about cleo:
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day...
(chorus:)
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day of my life
You are the one for me
I am the man for you
You were made for me
You’re my ecstasy
If I was given every opportunity
I’d kill for your love
So take a chance with me
Let me romance with you
I’m caught in a dream
And my dream’s come true
It’s so hard to believe
This is happening to me
An amazing feeling
Coming through
-(chorus)
I wanna love you
I love every little thing about you
I wanna love you, love you, love you
Born - to love you
Born - to love you
Yes I was born to love you
Born - to love you
Born - to love you
Every single day - of my life
An amazing feeling
Comin’ through
(chorus)
Yes I was born to love you
Every single day of my life
Go, I love you babe
Yes, I was born to love you
I wanna love you, love you, love you
I wanna love you
I get so lonely, lonely, lonely
Yeah, I wan’t to love you
Yeah, give it to me
That about sums it up really. If you don't know the song, go listen. Its fab!!
Home now, and relaxing. I cheated tonight and bought fish and chips on the way home.
On arrival at the hospital this afternoon, cleo was sitting up again, and looking every bit as good as yesterday. The ward had provided a special "stroke chair" for her a few days ago, which is height adjustable, with drop down arms, but of course these only work if they are adjusted correctly. We were told the importance of keeping cleo's feet on a small footrest provided with the chair, for support especially to her paralysed leg; my first observation when i walked in was "where's the footrest?". Now, cleo cant get out of the chair on her own, and it seems that there are only 4 nurses for the whole ward today. It takes so long to get everyone fed and washed, and up in the morning that she apparently lay in her bed till nearly midday, when she was raring to get sat up. The fact that there are not enough staff means that they do not have the time to ensure each patient is properly dealt with, hence the missing footrest. It was simply under the bed. So I am down on my knees pulling this rest out, and loudly moaning about not getting things properly organised...when out of nowhere comes James, the head physiotherapist.
We agree that she will go to the gym with James, and they produce a wheelchair immediately.
The transfer into the wheelchair makes cleo look far more comfortable, and the footrests that are part of the wheelchair seem to work far better for her than the wooden one that was supplied with the chair.
So it's off to the gym, and an hour's solid workout which included exercises to get her shoulder and arm working followed by standing, balance and walking exercises. While she is very unstable right now, it is evident of her determination to work as hard as possible on this.
She is asking questions, trying to understand the reason for each move, and the benefit that each will bring. The most trying moment was when they had her standing, and trying move her leg forward in a walking action: at the moment it wont go on its own, but just to see the strain on her face, trying so hard to will the leg to move, was great. I have no doubt that this determination and fighting spirit, provided we can keep her spirits up and her focus on it, will be the deciding factor in the time it takes to get her out of the hospital, and just how much she actually recovers. At this rate it will be soon, and she will be good as new!
Talking about timings, Matron was suggesting yesterday that we might even get her home for Christmas, and she said the same to James, the physio. So far they have not poo-pooed that goal, and she is absolutely determined to be out by 17th December. The next 3 weeks will be tough, but we will all do whatever we can.
After getting back from physio, I had to dash home to collect the girls from school. I suggested to the nurses that when we all got back we could wheel cleo to the patients restaurant and have a coffee. So we made a date. I told her to get her gladrags on as we were going out. This was considered a good idea, and so, arriving back with Sarah and Hannah we duly set off, signing cleo out of the ward, and pushed her to the restaurant where we sat for half an hour chatting and having coffee. That was a nice break for cleo, because as a friend pointed out you can very quickly go "stir crazy" in a hospital ward. Our first date went quite well.
I think she likes me.
I was born to love you..
I am reminded for some reason this evening of the Queen Song, penned by the late great Freddie Mercury, the words of which sum up how i feel about cleo:
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day...
(chorus:)
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day of my life
You are the one for me
I am the man for you
You were made for me
You’re my ecstasy
If I was given every opportunity
I’d kill for your love
So take a chance with me
Let me romance with you
I’m caught in a dream
And my dream’s come true
It’s so hard to believe
This is happening to me
An amazing feeling
Coming through
-(chorus)
I wanna love you
I love every little thing about you
I wanna love you, love you, love you
Born - to love you
Born - to love you
Yes I was born to love you
Born - to love you
Born - to love you
Every single day - of my life
An amazing feeling
Comin’ through
(chorus)
Yes I was born to love you
Every single day of my life
Go, I love you babe
Yes, I was born to love you
I wanna love you, love you, love you
I wanna love you
I get so lonely, lonely, lonely
Yeah, I wan’t to love you
Yeah, give it to me
That about sums it up really. If you don't know the song, go listen. Its fab!!
Home now, and relaxing. I cheated tonight and bought fish and chips on the way home.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Day 8 - Looking Forward.
Sometimes it's a fact of life that the saying "he who shouts loudest..." often works, even though undoubtedly others may miss out because of it.
This morning cleo's brother, and I, both made a couple of calls to relevant people, within the care team at the hospital. Result: Action, and almost immediate as well. It really is amazing that if you push a little more than others, and are not prepared to simply accept, but ask questions, and make a bit of noise, and as long as you do that in a sensible and diplomatic way, things happen.
Well, today things happened. More of that later.
You've got a friend..
Remember the song, by James Taylor, a line of which says:
"...and you know wherever I am,
I'll come runnin' to you, to see you again."
Today I have to say that I saw an example of true friendship, for which cleo and I will be eternally grateful. A friend of ours, whom we had never met, but who we have chatted to on the net for some years, and who is, I am sure he won't mind me saying, confined to a wheelchair and who has to contend with more difficulties each day than most of us see in a lifetime got in his car and drove some 80-odd miles this morning to meet me for lunch. We then visited cleo in the hospital, and we thoroughly enjoyed his company for the afternoon.
When someone in that position can make the huge effort that goes into doing something like that, you know what friendship really is. It was so moving to see him and cleo chatting, like old friends, bearing in mind that we and he had never met face to face before today.
Alan brought e-mail messages from many friends and each one was read with interest and happiness; that these people could take the time to send their good wishes is both pleasing and comforting to cleo and I. We thank each one from the bottom of our hearts, because that's the best therapy there is.
I just want to say to Alan, you are a star, and what you did today cannot ever be repaid. The incredible lift that it gave cleo was immediately apparent.
Thank you Alan from the bottom of my heart. I owe you.
Stand by Your Man
I said earlier that sometimes we have to push the system to get it working. The gentle shove we gave it this morning got the physiotherapy team, and the speech therapy team into action. cleo was given help this morning from the speech people about how to eat, and some exercises and coaching to help her talking. ( Do I really need someone else to tell cleo how to talk? Not really, she can talk for England can my cleo) Seriously, up till now she has been, as I have mentioned before on pureed food. Well today they re-examined her swallow reflex and after a little coaching about how to swallow, without choking, by moving her chin down against her chest they decided that she can have "proper" food again. So tonight she feasted on mushroom soup, egg sandwiches, and rice pudding. Even then she was, as is cleo's way, trying to prove she could eat and I had cause to slow her down a bit, finally taking control of the eating again, and feeding her the rice pudding.
Now the days best news: physiotherapy also came up trumps this morning. Having had these fainting fits a couple of times there was concern about what was causing them. Tests had proven inconclusive, but what has happened the last couple of days as cleo became more settled was she was eating better, getting some proper food inside her. This morning they tried sitting her up again, and to everyone's amazement, she didn't faint, and her balance is improved too.
I think maybe she just wasn't eating enough those first few days, and so her bllod sugar was too low; each time she was sat upright, she fainted as a result. Anyway, not only did they get her upright, they sat her in the chair by the bed, and even taught her how to stand, aided at this time of course by someone to hang on to, but just the fact that they showed her how to do this, by placing the weight on her good leg, and by locking her paralysed knee, has made her feel that she is making progress. She insisted a couple of times that I help her to stand, and she hung on to me so tightly, with an arm round my neck. I have to say it felt so good. Just to have her standing, albeit unable to move once she gets there, was wonderful, and testament to her grit and determination, and the fighting qualities that make cleo what she is.
Next step of course is to begin working the arm and leg to try and regain some motor activity, which at present is absent. However, that will come I am sure. The physiotherapists have said that when they were moving her there were definite signs of involuntary muscle movement, and that is a good sign.
Hospital Corners
I left Alan at the hospital and returned home to meet the girls from school, to take them to see their mum. They too were amazed when they walked in to see cleo sitting in a chair, looking pleased as punch, and laughing and joking with Alan. Once dinner was over, the bed needed to be made, and as there is a distinct lack of staff at certain times on the ward, because the whole NHS is very understaffed, the girls decided they would make the bed. One nursing assistant got all the bits, and proceeded to show Sarah and hannah how to make a hospital bed, including the famous "hospital corners" on the sheets. I asked Hannah whether her bedroom was going to be all tidy like that, but I doubt it will, going by the clothes and stuff that presently seem to inhabit the floor of her room pretty much all the time.
They were so pleased though that they had made the bed, and got it all tidy for their mum, and it is nice to see them wanting to be involved that way. They are two great kids, and I often think to myself how lucky I am to have been given the opportunity to call them my family; nothing is too good for them, and while I can never replace their dad, and wouldn't want to, I feel so proud that they have accepted me as their mums new partner. It certainly can't have been easy for them, to have to adjust to a new life, with a new person and all that entails, and their acceptance of me has been just one of the magical moments that i have been part of this last four years.
Thanks girls, and no you cant have any more money!
After the girls had gone off to their dads, cleo and I sat quietly, as we enjoy doing, just being in each others company. Matron came round and we talked about rehabilitation, and it seems there may be a chance, if only a slim one, provided cleo works hard, and does what she is told, of being home for Christmas, if only for a couple of days. We will see what progress is made over the next three weeks
Now that will be a special time.
This morning cleo's brother, and I, both made a couple of calls to relevant people, within the care team at the hospital. Result: Action, and almost immediate as well. It really is amazing that if you push a little more than others, and are not prepared to simply accept, but ask questions, and make a bit of noise, and as long as you do that in a sensible and diplomatic way, things happen.
Well, today things happened. More of that later.
You've got a friend..
Remember the song, by James Taylor, a line of which says:
"...and you know wherever I am,
I'll come runnin' to you, to see you again."
Today I have to say that I saw an example of true friendship, for which cleo and I will be eternally grateful. A friend of ours, whom we had never met, but who we have chatted to on the net for some years, and who is, I am sure he won't mind me saying, confined to a wheelchair and who has to contend with more difficulties each day than most of us see in a lifetime got in his car and drove some 80-odd miles this morning to meet me for lunch. We then visited cleo in the hospital, and we thoroughly enjoyed his company for the afternoon.
When someone in that position can make the huge effort that goes into doing something like that, you know what friendship really is. It was so moving to see him and cleo chatting, like old friends, bearing in mind that we and he had never met face to face before today.
Alan brought e-mail messages from many friends and each one was read with interest and happiness; that these people could take the time to send their good wishes is both pleasing and comforting to cleo and I. We thank each one from the bottom of our hearts, because that's the best therapy there is.
I just want to say to Alan, you are a star, and what you did today cannot ever be repaid. The incredible lift that it gave cleo was immediately apparent.
Thank you Alan from the bottom of my heart. I owe you.
Stand by Your Man
I said earlier that sometimes we have to push the system to get it working. The gentle shove we gave it this morning got the physiotherapy team, and the speech therapy team into action. cleo was given help this morning from the speech people about how to eat, and some exercises and coaching to help her talking. ( Do I really need someone else to tell cleo how to talk? Not really, she can talk for England can my cleo) Seriously, up till now she has been, as I have mentioned before on pureed food. Well today they re-examined her swallow reflex and after a little coaching about how to swallow, without choking, by moving her chin down against her chest they decided that she can have "proper" food again. So tonight she feasted on mushroom soup, egg sandwiches, and rice pudding. Even then she was, as is cleo's way, trying to prove she could eat and I had cause to slow her down a bit, finally taking control of the eating again, and feeding her the rice pudding.
Now the days best news: physiotherapy also came up trumps this morning. Having had these fainting fits a couple of times there was concern about what was causing them. Tests had proven inconclusive, but what has happened the last couple of days as cleo became more settled was she was eating better, getting some proper food inside her. This morning they tried sitting her up again, and to everyone's amazement, she didn't faint, and her balance is improved too.
I think maybe she just wasn't eating enough those first few days, and so her bllod sugar was too low; each time she was sat upright, she fainted as a result. Anyway, not only did they get her upright, they sat her in the chair by the bed, and even taught her how to stand, aided at this time of course by someone to hang on to, but just the fact that they showed her how to do this, by placing the weight on her good leg, and by locking her paralysed knee, has made her feel that she is making progress. She insisted a couple of times that I help her to stand, and she hung on to me so tightly, with an arm round my neck. I have to say it felt so good. Just to have her standing, albeit unable to move once she gets there, was wonderful, and testament to her grit and determination, and the fighting qualities that make cleo what she is.
Next step of course is to begin working the arm and leg to try and regain some motor activity, which at present is absent. However, that will come I am sure. The physiotherapists have said that when they were moving her there were definite signs of involuntary muscle movement, and that is a good sign.
Hospital Corners
I left Alan at the hospital and returned home to meet the girls from school, to take them to see their mum. They too were amazed when they walked in to see cleo sitting in a chair, looking pleased as punch, and laughing and joking with Alan. Once dinner was over, the bed needed to be made, and as there is a distinct lack of staff at certain times on the ward, because the whole NHS is very understaffed, the girls decided they would make the bed. One nursing assistant got all the bits, and proceeded to show Sarah and hannah how to make a hospital bed, including the famous "hospital corners" on the sheets. I asked Hannah whether her bedroom was going to be all tidy like that, but I doubt it will, going by the clothes and stuff that presently seem to inhabit the floor of her room pretty much all the time.
They were so pleased though that they had made the bed, and got it all tidy for their mum, and it is nice to see them wanting to be involved that way. They are two great kids, and I often think to myself how lucky I am to have been given the opportunity to call them my family; nothing is too good for them, and while I can never replace their dad, and wouldn't want to, I feel so proud that they have accepted me as their mums new partner. It certainly can't have been easy for them, to have to adjust to a new life, with a new person and all that entails, and their acceptance of me has been just one of the magical moments that i have been part of this last four years.
Thanks girls, and no you cant have any more money!
After the girls had gone off to their dads, cleo and I sat quietly, as we enjoy doing, just being in each others company. Matron came round and we talked about rehabilitation, and it seems there may be a chance, if only a slim one, provided cleo works hard, and does what she is told, of being home for Christmas, if only for a couple of days. We will see what progress is made over the next three weeks
Now that will be a special time.
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Day 7 - Determination
The first week is gone by, and frankly I never want another 7 days like this in my life again!
That said, thank goodness cleo is a little more settled now and as I said yesterday, accepting of the situation. She now has to channel her energy into getting better. So that's the plan for this week; ruffle a few feathers if needs be, ask pertinent questions, and get a bit of action on cleo's behalf. She did say to me at visiting this afternoon that she is now ready to start the process of getting herself well enough to come home, and that is her goal now. She is back to the determined and stubborn cleo that I fell in love with four years ago. Several times this afternoon she said that all she wants now is to show the doctors that she can come home as soon as possible.
There is some feeling coming back in her arm and leg although no movement as yet, but it would appear that the nerves are starting to recover from the trauma, and with luck, and hard work she will be up and home soon. What we now have to do is face the undoubted struggle of rehabilitation: sitting up, walking, going to the toilet, and all those things which we all take for granted. Until such time as she can do all that again for herself, coming home is not an option.
It will be a very tough and no doubt extended struggle, but cleo's willpower is immense and I know she will overcome all the bad things.
The Hunt for Red Oktober...
There is a lady in the bed opposite who has been visited this week by her family, two of whom (her sons i think) look like they have just stepped off a Russian submarine. Big guys they are with beards, and foreign accents. We have laughed several times these past few days, with the girls, in an effort to make the visiting as lighthearted as possible, saying that these people are Russian spies, and they are infiltrating the Health Service. We whisper at each other in Russian accents. The woman herself who has yet to speak, is known to the girls as Red Oktober, because she cannot possibly be Mrs Spencer from Broadstairs, that is merely a cover. We have blown that cover and are watching, waiting for the moment when we can foil their dastardly plans to escape back to Moscow with our NHS secrets. Her supposed daughter even visited today, and she is no doubt some Mata Hari type, prepared to do anything to gain the confidence of Kevin, a male nursing assistant on the ward.
More updates on Red Oktober soon.
While we miss terribly the togetherness that is such a special part of our relationship, the physical contact as well as the emotional is so important to both of us i genuinely feel a new and even greater intimacy between us from these past few days. When you look at the love of your life, your soulmate, with all those emotions in her eyes, fear, love, wanting, dread, the questions that are unspoken which say "please take me home" and "why has this happened to me"; when that person is open , and emotionally stripped before you, and it is seemingly impossible to do anything to help them overcome that fear there is one constant that remains for me. When cleo looks into my eyes and i see her love, I see her looking to me for direction and calm, and i am honoured that she feels able to trust me like she does. Even the nurses have remarked how she hangs on my every word, and how much she looks forward to me arriving each day.
To be loved with that intensity of feeling is so remarkable, and so special that I feel privileged that she has, and continues to love me in the way that she does. may it long continue. Thank you my cleo, for loving me in a way I have never been loved before, and in a way that i could not even imagine were possible.
The girls are at their dad's now, and it is so quiet in the house. Usually its noisy, and we moan about that, but Oh! how I wish it was noisy here right at this minute. Time for me to make dinner, and relax in preparation for the next week of the Road to Recovery which will continue to be documented here day by day.
That said, thank goodness cleo is a little more settled now and as I said yesterday, accepting of the situation. She now has to channel her energy into getting better. So that's the plan for this week; ruffle a few feathers if needs be, ask pertinent questions, and get a bit of action on cleo's behalf. She did say to me at visiting this afternoon that she is now ready to start the process of getting herself well enough to come home, and that is her goal now. She is back to the determined and stubborn cleo that I fell in love with four years ago. Several times this afternoon she said that all she wants now is to show the doctors that she can come home as soon as possible.
There is some feeling coming back in her arm and leg although no movement as yet, but it would appear that the nerves are starting to recover from the trauma, and with luck, and hard work she will be up and home soon. What we now have to do is face the undoubted struggle of rehabilitation: sitting up, walking, going to the toilet, and all those things which we all take for granted. Until such time as she can do all that again for herself, coming home is not an option.
It will be a very tough and no doubt extended struggle, but cleo's willpower is immense and I know she will overcome all the bad things.
The Hunt for Red Oktober...
There is a lady in the bed opposite who has been visited this week by her family, two of whom (her sons i think) look like they have just stepped off a Russian submarine. Big guys they are with beards, and foreign accents. We have laughed several times these past few days, with the girls, in an effort to make the visiting as lighthearted as possible, saying that these people are Russian spies, and they are infiltrating the Health Service. We whisper at each other in Russian accents. The woman herself who has yet to speak, is known to the girls as Red Oktober, because she cannot possibly be Mrs Spencer from Broadstairs, that is merely a cover. We have blown that cover and are watching, waiting for the moment when we can foil their dastardly plans to escape back to Moscow with our NHS secrets. Her supposed daughter even visited today, and she is no doubt some Mata Hari type, prepared to do anything to gain the confidence of Kevin, a male nursing assistant on the ward.
More updates on Red Oktober soon.
While we miss terribly the togetherness that is such a special part of our relationship, the physical contact as well as the emotional is so important to both of us i genuinely feel a new and even greater intimacy between us from these past few days. When you look at the love of your life, your soulmate, with all those emotions in her eyes, fear, love, wanting, dread, the questions that are unspoken which say "please take me home" and "why has this happened to me"; when that person is open , and emotionally stripped before you, and it is seemingly impossible to do anything to help them overcome that fear there is one constant that remains for me. When cleo looks into my eyes and i see her love, I see her looking to me for direction and calm, and i am honoured that she feels able to trust me like she does. Even the nurses have remarked how she hangs on my every word, and how much she looks forward to me arriving each day.
To be loved with that intensity of feeling is so remarkable, and so special that I feel privileged that she has, and continues to love me in the way that she does. may it long continue. Thank you my cleo, for loving me in a way I have never been loved before, and in a way that i could not even imagine were possible.
The girls are at their dad's now, and it is so quiet in the house. Usually its noisy, and we moan about that, but Oh! how I wish it was noisy here right at this minute. Time for me to make dinner, and relax in preparation for the next week of the Road to Recovery which will continue to be documented here day by day.
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Day 6 - Taking Stock.
Question Time
There are times when one needs to keep quiet in this world and times when one needs to speak up.
However, and it took a while for me to accept this, she has been in the hospital for nearly a week, and we are still unsure what was the exact cause of the stroke, and results from all the tests are either inconclusive or not available.
I have decided that while I believe the care being offered is of a high standard in terms of making her comfortable, and stable, I am also less happy that they are not being pro-active enough in their efforts to move the treatment forward.
There does not appear to be a regime in place from the speech therapist.
Cleo’s brother asked a valid and very pertinent question this afternoon, which was “Have they explained to you how you might get your arm moving by suggesting exercises (mental and physical) that you can try while you are here with no visitors, and through the times when visiting is not allowed?”
We were given the name of the “consultant” in charge of her case. Now this may simply be an error on the part of the person who wrote the name, but in England a consultant is always referred to as “Mr So-and-so”, rather than “Dr. So-and-so”. In this case the name we were given was Dr, rather than Mr. On Monday I will find out.
Unless people are told what they need to do, it’s very difficult to know. In a sense this may be three or four days wasted in the recovery and rehabilitation process. Of course, a high percentage of stroke patients (forgive the emotive language here please) are very old, and are perhaps more content to be “maintained” rather than improved, that is not true of my cleo. She is only 50, and has two young daughters who will still be looking to their mum for some years to come. If she were 80 then I can understand, but she is not, and so my course is set as of Monday. Weekends are not the time to begin pushing things forward, so we will let this rest tomorrow, but be prepared for some diplomatic fireworks on Monday.
Today I have spent almost 6 hours visiting cleo, and I have to report that she is in the best possible spirits, allowing of course for the situation in which she finds herself. She was in good form, and seems to have bonded ( I am sure they do this on purpose) with a couple of the nurses there and enjoys some banter with them, which is nice. She is more accepting of the predicament and is laughing and joking too, which makes me happy, because it seems she is contented. Today she ate a better meal, still pureed, but had more than she has been eating of late. I quite enjoy feeding her, because it means we are drawn closer, she is dependant on me rather than anyone else; she looks to me for the next spoonful which is nice. She knows too that I will always provide for her, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves.
So today was less stressful overall, and cleo was more relaxed too, which makes me more relaxed also. My job now is to act on her behalf, and ensure that the treatment which she needs is moved forward, in the best possible way, for her, and if I have to ruffle a few of those NHS feathers along the way, then so be it.
There are times when one needs to keep quiet in this world and times when one needs to speak up.
However, and it took a while for me to accept this, she has been in the hospital for nearly a week, and we are still unsure what was the exact cause of the stroke, and results from all the tests are either inconclusive or not available.
I have decided that while I believe the care being offered is of a high standard in terms of making her comfortable, and stable, I am also less happy that they are not being pro-active enough in their efforts to move the treatment forward.
There does not appear to be a regime in place from the speech therapist.
Cleo’s brother asked a valid and very pertinent question this afternoon, which was “Have they explained to you how you might get your arm moving by suggesting exercises (mental and physical) that you can try while you are here with no visitors, and through the times when visiting is not allowed?”
We were given the name of the “consultant” in charge of her case. Now this may simply be an error on the part of the person who wrote the name, but in England a consultant is always referred to as “Mr So-and-so”, rather than “Dr. So-and-so”. In this case the name we were given was Dr, rather than Mr. On Monday I will find out.
Unless people are told what they need to do, it’s very difficult to know. In a sense this may be three or four days wasted in the recovery and rehabilitation process. Of course, a high percentage of stroke patients (forgive the emotive language here please) are very old, and are perhaps more content to be “maintained” rather than improved, that is not true of my cleo. She is only 50, and has two young daughters who will still be looking to their mum for some years to come. If she were 80 then I can understand, but she is not, and so my course is set as of Monday. Weekends are not the time to begin pushing things forward, so we will let this rest tomorrow, but be prepared for some diplomatic fireworks on Monday.
Today I have spent almost 6 hours visiting cleo, and I have to report that she is in the best possible spirits, allowing of course for the situation in which she finds herself. She was in good form, and seems to have bonded ( I am sure they do this on purpose) with a couple of the nurses there and enjoys some banter with them, which is nice. She is more accepting of the predicament and is laughing and joking too, which makes me happy, because it seems she is contented. Today she ate a better meal, still pureed, but had more than she has been eating of late. I quite enjoy feeding her, because it means we are drawn closer, she is dependant on me rather than anyone else; she looks to me for the next spoonful which is nice. She knows too that I will always provide for her, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves.
So today was less stressful overall, and cleo was more relaxed too, which makes me more relaxed also. My job now is to act on her behalf, and ensure that the treatment which she needs is moved forward, in the best possible way, for her, and if I have to ruffle a few of those NHS feathers along the way, then so be it.
My Kentish Maid
This is a poem I wrote for cleo some time ago.
It sort of sums up what she is to me, and what she will always be:
My Kentish Maid
So delicate oft in pleasant sunlight waits
As lovely as the blossoms by the picket gate
She is the glory in the summer’s garden show
A fragrance that is heady yet, quite slow
Insinuates into the senses deep
And leaves a memory that this mind can keep
Of wondrous days in warming midday sun
And blissful evenings spent in one to one
And everlasting yet her fragrance stays
Inside my mind supportive in the days
When I am not with her the scent is still
My Kentish Maid, has made me yet fulfilled
It sort of sums up what she is to me, and what she will always be:
My Kentish Maid
So delicate oft in pleasant sunlight waits
As lovely as the blossoms by the picket gate
She is the glory in the summer’s garden show
A fragrance that is heady yet, quite slow
Insinuates into the senses deep
And leaves a memory that this mind can keep
Of wondrous days in warming midday sun
And blissful evenings spent in one to one
And everlasting yet her fragrance stays
Inside my mind supportive in the days
When I am not with her the scent is still
My Kentish Maid, has made me yet fulfilled
Friday, November 25, 2005
Day 5 - A Womans Work....
One interesting point that has come out this week, not only for me, but for the girls too, and we talked about it this evening before going to the hospital, was how do "mums" do it? Do what you ask? Do everything, what mums do. Now we three have been sorting ourselves this week and still we forget stuff. Things that just happen at the right time when cleo is around: washing, ironing, dinner, medication, cleaning, putting the rubbish out, and a million other things too.
How on earth a mum manages it I have no idea. I certainly couldn't.
More fainting
I called the hospital at lunchtime to be told that cleo had again had a similar fainting episode to yesterday. She was being taken away to undergo a doppler test, which measures the rate of blood passing through an artery. In this case its the carotid artery, which transports blood, and therefore oxygen directly to the brain.
The current thought is that cleos high cholesterol, which is caused along with other things by her having a condition known as "syndrome x". The cholesterol effectively builds up inside the blood vessels, making the vessel narrower. Now, what happens are two things: at the site of the narrowing, a sort of ulcerated spot can form, called a plaque, which then creates turbulence in the blood. Turbulence in blood tells the blood to clot around the plaque. A clot can then very easily be transferred to the brain. This may well be the cause of cleo's stroke.
Subsequent to the clot causing the stroke of course the lack of blood flow created by the narrowed vessel will also manifest itself in the fainting episodes that we are seeing right now.
For the moment I have put my foot down and insisted that cleo use a bed pan. However undignified it may be, her best interest is the most important factor and that is the right way to go at this time.
Along with the doppler on her carotid artery the hospital also decided that an ultrasound examination of her heart was a good plan too. This was also carried out today, and seemed to be fine: nothing to worry about there.
Science lesson over!
Willy Wonka!
I am not sure where cleo got this, but earlier in the week she expressed an interest in having a DVD player in the hospital, so she could watch films. Good idea I think, I'll get one. I want to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory she says. Now where on earth she got that from I'll never know, but having been to a local store and bought a nice little portable DVD player I am then off to get a copy of the new Johnny Depp (ahhh thats what it is.. Depp, she likes Depp) version, recently released on DVD.
So, this afternoon, I waited for cleo to come back from the Doppler test with some trepidation, because I was afraid the fainting thing may have caused her to react like yesterday. Luckily, no. When she was wheeled back into the ward, I was standing waiting. She saw me and her eyes lit up ( I love it when that happens!) and she just said "Hello my darling" in that rather little-girl voice she uses; coupled with the slur she has right now, its rather comical, but beautiful all the same. (Anyone remember Charlie Drake?).
We kissed, and held hands; there's something special about that. Not enough people these days who are over the first throes of a relationship do that. We do, and I am sure that we always will.
This last day or so, cleo has become a little more accepting of her predicament. Now I never want her to lose her fighting qualities, because that is an essential part of her make-up. What is good though at this time is that she is not continually trying to go against the good advice of those caring for her. I will add here that I have often bemoaned the seemingly lumbering nature of the beast that is the NHS, but when one sees it operate first hand, you have to admit it's a great system. There is never any question about cost, it's simply what is right for the patient at the time. Thank God we live in the UK.
The girls had got some bits together for their mum, and the evening visit included taking in pictures for her to hang around the bed, a calender printed out with suitable messages on it for the next couple of months for the days to be ticked off, and bits of ribbon and stuff to "glitter up" the bedspace. Girly stuff, but i know cleo appreciated the effort they made, and its important for me that the girls are included. They must not feel left out, they have to be a part of cleo's rehabilitation and recovery. They are so important in that. Sarah even painted her mum's toenails.
Trying to get hannah to feed her mum jelly was quite funny: Hannah eats by shoveling food into her mouth at breakneck speed, especially sweet stuff. Mum nearly drowned in orange jelly as hannah continued to add more spoonfuls to an already jelly-clogged mouth.
I am sure Hannah will get that soon enough, as long as cleo survives the next few jelly onslaughts.
I took the girls to their dads at 6pm and popped back to the hospital where we simply spent the last hour of visiting together, in each other's company. That was nice, a quiet period, and very restful. We made a deal: cleo loves tea. Real tea, PG Tips drunk from a china cup. I am taking a flask of real tea in tomorrow, with a china cup, for us to have a cup of tea together, something that we always enjoy.
So, here now, writing this, its friday evening at home. Kids are at their Dads, and i am relaxed, and hopeful that the first days of the storm are over, and we can now look forward to getting my cleo better, and home as soon as possible. Yes, its going to be a long road to recovery, and i know there will be good and bad days, and upsets, and many tears along the way, but I have the utmost belief in the power of our love, and the strength that both of us get from each other that I know we can do this, and at the end of it we will be even stronger, closer, and more in love than we are right now.
How on earth a mum manages it I have no idea. I certainly couldn't.
More fainting
I called the hospital at lunchtime to be told that cleo had again had a similar fainting episode to yesterday. She was being taken away to undergo a doppler test, which measures the rate of blood passing through an artery. In this case its the carotid artery, which transports blood, and therefore oxygen directly to the brain.
The current thought is that cleos high cholesterol, which is caused along with other things by her having a condition known as "syndrome x". The cholesterol effectively builds up inside the blood vessels, making the vessel narrower. Now, what happens are two things: at the site of the narrowing, a sort of ulcerated spot can form, called a plaque, which then creates turbulence in the blood. Turbulence in blood tells the blood to clot around the plaque. A clot can then very easily be transferred to the brain. This may well be the cause of cleo's stroke.
Subsequent to the clot causing the stroke of course the lack of blood flow created by the narrowed vessel will also manifest itself in the fainting episodes that we are seeing right now.
For the moment I have put my foot down and insisted that cleo use a bed pan. However undignified it may be, her best interest is the most important factor and that is the right way to go at this time.
Along with the doppler on her carotid artery the hospital also decided that an ultrasound examination of her heart was a good plan too. This was also carried out today, and seemed to be fine: nothing to worry about there.
Science lesson over!
Willy Wonka!
I am not sure where cleo got this, but earlier in the week she expressed an interest in having a DVD player in the hospital, so she could watch films. Good idea I think, I'll get one. I want to watch Charlie and the Chocolate Factory she says. Now where on earth she got that from I'll never know, but having been to a local store and bought a nice little portable DVD player I am then off to get a copy of the new Johnny Depp (ahhh thats what it is.. Depp, she likes Depp) version, recently released on DVD.
So, this afternoon, I waited for cleo to come back from the Doppler test with some trepidation, because I was afraid the fainting thing may have caused her to react like yesterday. Luckily, no. When she was wheeled back into the ward, I was standing waiting. She saw me and her eyes lit up ( I love it when that happens!) and she just said "Hello my darling" in that rather little-girl voice she uses; coupled with the slur she has right now, its rather comical, but beautiful all the same. (Anyone remember Charlie Drake?).
We kissed, and held hands; there's something special about that. Not enough people these days who are over the first throes of a relationship do that. We do, and I am sure that we always will.
This last day or so, cleo has become a little more accepting of her predicament. Now I never want her to lose her fighting qualities, because that is an essential part of her make-up. What is good though at this time is that she is not continually trying to go against the good advice of those caring for her. I will add here that I have often bemoaned the seemingly lumbering nature of the beast that is the NHS, but when one sees it operate first hand, you have to admit it's a great system. There is never any question about cost, it's simply what is right for the patient at the time. Thank God we live in the UK.
The girls had got some bits together for their mum, and the evening visit included taking in pictures for her to hang around the bed, a calender printed out with suitable messages on it for the next couple of months for the days to be ticked off, and bits of ribbon and stuff to "glitter up" the bedspace. Girly stuff, but i know cleo appreciated the effort they made, and its important for me that the girls are included. They must not feel left out, they have to be a part of cleo's rehabilitation and recovery. They are so important in that. Sarah even painted her mum's toenails.
Trying to get hannah to feed her mum jelly was quite funny: Hannah eats by shoveling food into her mouth at breakneck speed, especially sweet stuff. Mum nearly drowned in orange jelly as hannah continued to add more spoonfuls to an already jelly-clogged mouth.
I am sure Hannah will get that soon enough, as long as cleo survives the next few jelly onslaughts.
I took the girls to their dads at 6pm and popped back to the hospital where we simply spent the last hour of visiting together, in each other's company. That was nice, a quiet period, and very restful. We made a deal: cleo loves tea. Real tea, PG Tips drunk from a china cup. I am taking a flask of real tea in tomorrow, with a china cup, for us to have a cup of tea together, something that we always enjoy.
So, here now, writing this, its friday evening at home. Kids are at their Dads, and i am relaxed, and hopeful that the first days of the storm are over, and we can now look forward to getting my cleo better, and home as soon as possible. Yes, its going to be a long road to recovery, and i know there will be good and bad days, and upsets, and many tears along the way, but I have the utmost belief in the power of our love, and the strength that both of us get from each other that I know we can do this, and at the end of it we will be even stronger, closer, and more in love than we are right now.
Sleep. A poem for cleo
Sleep, sweet cleo
Fear not
Your darkest dreams.
For I will guard you
When it seems
Defences fall away.
Relax and rest
Until your mind
Has purged the worst
Of thoughts placed there
By those who do not care.
And I will wait.
As cleo sleeps
I marvel at her innocence
And kiss her lips.
She turns, and sighs
So fragile like a child
Just born.
Sleeps safely as I
Hold her in my arms, this
My duty till the dawn
©Paul Knox 2005
Fear not
Your darkest dreams.
For I will guard you
When it seems
Defences fall away.
Relax and rest
Until your mind
Has purged the worst
Of thoughts placed there
By those who do not care.
And I will wait.
As cleo sleeps
I marvel at her innocence
And kiss her lips.
She turns, and sighs
So fragile like a child
Just born.
Sleeps safely as I
Hold her in my arms, this
My duty till the dawn
©Paul Knox 2005
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Day 4 - I do....
The Matron at the hospital last night did say that almost without exception in the recovery process from strokes, and other debilitating illness too, there will be good days and bad days. Well, today has been both, because I have had a roller coaster of a day.
When the post arrived this morning there was a letter from our solicitor. Now for some time we have been trying to arrange our marriage, and the only thing this year that stopped us was that cleo's divorce took forever to resolve. Mine had taken three years, and we were waiting for hers from january, and our original plan was to get married on cleo's birthday in June this year. That had to be shelved because her divorce had not been finalised, and then our next date was in january, which was the aniversary of us living together. This too seemed to have been jinxed as until today still nothing from the solicitor.
The letter I got read as follows:
"I enclose your original decree absolute dated 2nd November... you are now divorced"
My heart soared because that was it, nothing now stood in our way. Now we had a real goal, get cleo out of the hospital and I could finally marry my soulmate.
Oh Shit.....
Buoyed up with the solicitor's letter I arrived at the hospital a few minutes before visiting began, and when i looked at cleo, lying there, eyes closed I knew something was wrong. I walked to the side of the bed, and leaned over her, kissing her awake, she mumbled something unintelligible, and I panicked. She sounded far worse than yesterday and looked awful. I only got one word from her: "Disaster.." My mind raced.
Numbed by the fact that she looked so ill, compared to yesterday, I asked her what was wrong. I have to say that at this point I was afraid she had suffered a second stroke. She could hardly speak at all, what words she was saying were impossible to understand, and she was lying flat on her back, not propped on the bed as before.
I walked to the nurse's station where one of the doctors was sitting, and asked what was the matter. They explained that they had tried to sit her in a chair, and she had undergone some sort of fainting episode, as well as a drop in blood pressure. To be safe they had decided to lay her flat but they also felt pretty sure that she had not suffered another stroke.
I have to say at this moment I was not convinced, and I saw my cleos vital spark, that light in her eyes which had been evident even last night, which is what makes cleo the incredible person she is, ebbing away. I was scared now, and at the same time afraid to show it for her sake.
i took her hand, and spoke quietly, up very close, telling her how much I loved her, and that I had the divorce papers through, and there was now nothing to stop us marrying. "Now you have a real goal" I said "the moment you're out of here I am marrying you". Her eyes lit up again, with that love and devotion which makes me in awe of her. I do not understand how someone can feel that for me, I am just me; some 49 year old overweight bloke with old fashioned and often outdated ideals, and a total bear-with-a-sore-head attitude in the morning!
"So, theres no escape now" I said, "you have to practice saying those two words: I do"
She did "I do...I do...I do..." I kissed her again.
Over the next hour she slowly told me how scared she was; the fainting fit had given her a really bad headache and she was very aware that when she had the stroke on monday she had a sharp pain over her eye. She was stressed because she was thinking this was another one on the way.
That made the headache worse and so on, self perpetuating.
I held her hand and listened to her almost unintelligible words but just being there together seemed to calm her down a little. She drifted in and out of sleep. Each time she woke up, i said "What do you have to say?" "I do, I do, I do" she said, with a little smile.
Finally I had to leave to collect the girls and while I was happier now than an hour or so ago, I have to admit when I got home I cried, huge floods of tears, because there seemed to have been a massive backward step and that wasn't how it was supposed to be.
I was crestfallen.
Tell the kids
When the girls got home from school I was so afraid for them that I told them, through my own tears, how their mum had been that afternoon, and they needed to be prepared to see her not like she was the night before. These girls are truly amazing; they heard what I said, and understood, and took it in their stride, which in itself is of course down to cleo who had made them what they are.
We ate pizza and headed to the hospital.
Walking down the corridor to the ward i reminded them again that their mum might not seem as good as yesterday......they nodded.
We walked in, and cleo was sitting up, as she saw the kids her eyes lit up, and a wave of massive relief flooded over me. She was back, like yesterday. I could have cried tears of joy there and then, but managed not to. I didn't want to start everyone else off.
I kissed cleo and asked her what she had to say "I do, I do, I do" came the reply. The headache was gone and she felt ok.
The relief was incredible.
Visiting was good, i fed cleo mashed banana, and some yoghurt, which she enjoyed, and finally at the end of visiting it seemed we had set a ritual last night. The girls wanted to let me go first and say their goodnights after I had gone: who am I to argue with three women?
Home finally with great relief, and i honestly hope i dont have too many days like that. What i will remember is cleo, with that little twinkle in her eye saying over and over again : "I do, I do, I do"
When the post arrived this morning there was a letter from our solicitor. Now for some time we have been trying to arrange our marriage, and the only thing this year that stopped us was that cleo's divorce took forever to resolve. Mine had taken three years, and we were waiting for hers from january, and our original plan was to get married on cleo's birthday in June this year. That had to be shelved because her divorce had not been finalised, and then our next date was in january, which was the aniversary of us living together. This too seemed to have been jinxed as until today still nothing from the solicitor.
The letter I got read as follows:
"I enclose your original decree absolute dated 2nd November... you are now divorced"
My heart soared because that was it, nothing now stood in our way. Now we had a real goal, get cleo out of the hospital and I could finally marry my soulmate.
Oh Shit.....
Buoyed up with the solicitor's letter I arrived at the hospital a few minutes before visiting began, and when i looked at cleo, lying there, eyes closed I knew something was wrong. I walked to the side of the bed, and leaned over her, kissing her awake, she mumbled something unintelligible, and I panicked. She sounded far worse than yesterday and looked awful. I only got one word from her: "Disaster.." My mind raced.
Numbed by the fact that she looked so ill, compared to yesterday, I asked her what was wrong. I have to say that at this point I was afraid she had suffered a second stroke. She could hardly speak at all, what words she was saying were impossible to understand, and she was lying flat on her back, not propped on the bed as before.
I walked to the nurse's station where one of the doctors was sitting, and asked what was the matter. They explained that they had tried to sit her in a chair, and she had undergone some sort of fainting episode, as well as a drop in blood pressure. To be safe they had decided to lay her flat but they also felt pretty sure that she had not suffered another stroke.
I have to say at this moment I was not convinced, and I saw my cleos vital spark, that light in her eyes which had been evident even last night, which is what makes cleo the incredible person she is, ebbing away. I was scared now, and at the same time afraid to show it for her sake.
i took her hand, and spoke quietly, up very close, telling her how much I loved her, and that I had the divorce papers through, and there was now nothing to stop us marrying. "Now you have a real goal" I said "the moment you're out of here I am marrying you". Her eyes lit up again, with that love and devotion which makes me in awe of her. I do not understand how someone can feel that for me, I am just me; some 49 year old overweight bloke with old fashioned and often outdated ideals, and a total bear-with-a-sore-head attitude in the morning!
"So, theres no escape now" I said, "you have to practice saying those two words: I do"
She did "I do...I do...I do..." I kissed her again.
Over the next hour she slowly told me how scared she was; the fainting fit had given her a really bad headache and she was very aware that when she had the stroke on monday she had a sharp pain over her eye. She was stressed because she was thinking this was another one on the way.
That made the headache worse and so on, self perpetuating.
I held her hand and listened to her almost unintelligible words but just being there together seemed to calm her down a little. She drifted in and out of sleep. Each time she woke up, i said "What do you have to say?" "I do, I do, I do" she said, with a little smile.
Finally I had to leave to collect the girls and while I was happier now than an hour or so ago, I have to admit when I got home I cried, huge floods of tears, because there seemed to have been a massive backward step and that wasn't how it was supposed to be.
I was crestfallen.
Tell the kids
When the girls got home from school I was so afraid for them that I told them, through my own tears, how their mum had been that afternoon, and they needed to be prepared to see her not like she was the night before. These girls are truly amazing; they heard what I said, and understood, and took it in their stride, which in itself is of course down to cleo who had made them what they are.
We ate pizza and headed to the hospital.
Walking down the corridor to the ward i reminded them again that their mum might not seem as good as yesterday......they nodded.
We walked in, and cleo was sitting up, as she saw the kids her eyes lit up, and a wave of massive relief flooded over me. She was back, like yesterday. I could have cried tears of joy there and then, but managed not to. I didn't want to start everyone else off.
I kissed cleo and asked her what she had to say "I do, I do, I do" came the reply. The headache was gone and she felt ok.
The relief was incredible.
Visiting was good, i fed cleo mashed banana, and some yoghurt, which she enjoyed, and finally at the end of visiting it seemed we had set a ritual last night. The girls wanted to let me go first and say their goodnights after I had gone: who am I to argue with three women?
Home finally with great relief, and i honestly hope i dont have too many days like that. What i will remember is cleo, with that little twinkle in her eye saying over and over again : "I do, I do, I do"
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Day 3 - Sack of Potatoes!
cleo was moved last night from the CDU into a specialist stroke ward. This is good in one sense in that in this ward they are better able to deal with stroke victims, and they have physiotherapy and stuff all on hand there.
I visted her this morning, although i had to wait over an hour while they did physio and stuff with her. I get in there and ask her how she is, and she admits to doing something really silly last night: wanting to go to the toilet (again!) she decides she will try and walk to the toilet unaided. Gets herself to the edge of the bed, and promptly falls on the floor "like a sack of potatoes" (her words). Stubborn woman that she is, and which i love her for, but not when she does these sort of things!!
We sort of laughed later as she described how she was trying to wave at the nurses from behind the bed and nobody saw her. Result of all this is twofold: a badly grazed hip, which could have been far worse, and an acceptance that she will not get off the bed and walk without proper help and physio.
This evening I took the girls to Macdonalds and treated them to a meal there before visiting, which was nice. We all got to the hospital and the visit started off with everyone getting emotional: cleo in tears, me the same and then the girls. Enter Matron, who spent much time with us over the next hour, impressing cleo, and all of us that recovery is more than possible, with work and physio, and that the people here are the best. Ultimately this was good psychology and we agreed to set goals. I have suggested that we might look at Christmas for getting home, if only for a couple of days, although i am not sure if thats possible just yet, but we will see.
Now everyone has something to look forward to, and cleo has something to work for; to get herself enthused about, and to give a focus to her physio.
Pureed food....
next thing was dinner.. served up as puree. What we dont realise until we have exposure to this kind of episode, and i certainly didn't, was that when one has the obvious paralysis, arms and legs etc there are far less obvious but just as important considerations: swallowing for example. When there is paralysis within the throat, or mouth the ability to swallow correctly can be lost for a while. Trying to drink too fast, or chew lumps of food can cause choking. The doctors actually do "swallow reflex" checks, and from these can decide how best one should receive food. In cleos case for a couple of days they have decided that pureed food is best. Sarah sat and fed her mum some of this awful looking pureed mashy stuff that frankly didn't look that appetising. Still, its all part of the regime i guess.
Peter Piper...
I pointed out to cleo that sometimes just talking can help, and so we tried getting her to say tongue twisters. She lay there rapidly saying the Peter Piper verse, followed by "She sells sea shells..." It was obvious she was concentrating so hard, and as she did the enunciation got worse and worse, but the concentration on her face was a picture. We all laughed, and it was the first time i think that we had laughed together, all four of us since monday. A good moment.
That was a nice light few minutes, and one of those little times that we will all remember.
By ten to eight she was getting really tired, but was fighting it because she didn't want us to go.
I kissed her, and hugged her, and it was nice to feel her close to me again, because i miss that. Then i made a spontaneous decision: the car was parked a way up the road, and so i said "OK I am going to go get the car, leave the girls here for 10 minutes on their own". I walked away, and left the girls to be alone with their mum. When they came to the car they said she got all emotional again but I was pleased they had got a few minutes without any distractions to be with their mum.
Home now and the round of phone calls and stuff, but we were all quite relaxed at home which was nice.
I visted her this morning, although i had to wait over an hour while they did physio and stuff with her. I get in there and ask her how she is, and she admits to doing something really silly last night: wanting to go to the toilet (again!) she decides she will try and walk to the toilet unaided. Gets herself to the edge of the bed, and promptly falls on the floor "like a sack of potatoes" (her words). Stubborn woman that she is, and which i love her for, but not when she does these sort of things!!
We sort of laughed later as she described how she was trying to wave at the nurses from behind the bed and nobody saw her. Result of all this is twofold: a badly grazed hip, which could have been far worse, and an acceptance that she will not get off the bed and walk without proper help and physio.
This evening I took the girls to Macdonalds and treated them to a meal there before visiting, which was nice. We all got to the hospital and the visit started off with everyone getting emotional: cleo in tears, me the same and then the girls. Enter Matron, who spent much time with us over the next hour, impressing cleo, and all of us that recovery is more than possible, with work and physio, and that the people here are the best. Ultimately this was good psychology and we agreed to set goals. I have suggested that we might look at Christmas for getting home, if only for a couple of days, although i am not sure if thats possible just yet, but we will see.
Now everyone has something to look forward to, and cleo has something to work for; to get herself enthused about, and to give a focus to her physio.
Pureed food....
next thing was dinner.. served up as puree. What we dont realise until we have exposure to this kind of episode, and i certainly didn't, was that when one has the obvious paralysis, arms and legs etc there are far less obvious but just as important considerations: swallowing for example. When there is paralysis within the throat, or mouth the ability to swallow correctly can be lost for a while. Trying to drink too fast, or chew lumps of food can cause choking. The doctors actually do "swallow reflex" checks, and from these can decide how best one should receive food. In cleos case for a couple of days they have decided that pureed food is best. Sarah sat and fed her mum some of this awful looking pureed mashy stuff that frankly didn't look that appetising. Still, its all part of the regime i guess.
Peter Piper...
I pointed out to cleo that sometimes just talking can help, and so we tried getting her to say tongue twisters. She lay there rapidly saying the Peter Piper verse, followed by "She sells sea shells..." It was obvious she was concentrating so hard, and as she did the enunciation got worse and worse, but the concentration on her face was a picture. We all laughed, and it was the first time i think that we had laughed together, all four of us since monday. A good moment.
That was a nice light few minutes, and one of those little times that we will all remember.
By ten to eight she was getting really tired, but was fighting it because she didn't want us to go.
I kissed her, and hugged her, and it was nice to feel her close to me again, because i miss that. Then i made a spontaneous decision: the car was parked a way up the road, and so i said "OK I am going to go get the car, leave the girls here for 10 minutes on their own". I walked away, and left the girls to be alone with their mum. When they came to the car they said she got all emotional again but I was pleased they had got a few minutes without any distractions to be with their mum.
Home now and the round of phone calls and stuff, but we were all quite relaxed at home which was nice.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Day 2 - Getting Organised
I am not the world's most organised person at home. At work it is different, but with cleo around she is very good at ensuring that what needs to be done , is done. So, this morning I had to wake to the realisation that there is much that I needed to organise in terms of home, as well as my time for visiting cleo and sorting the kids. The girls are pretty good, they get themselves ready and by 0820 are preparing to leave. We agree that they will visit cleo with me this afternoon and they get off to school.
Now I am alone in the house, and it's really quiet. It is moments like this that underline how much you miss someone when they are not there. I open the back door to let some sunshine in, and the cool November air wakes me up, along with the hot tea I am drinking.
First thought: I promised cleo I would visit this morning, so I had better get ready. Jump in the shower, and I am away by just after nine.
First gauntlet to run is the car park at the hospital again. I note the sign on the automatic payment machine "no change given, overpayment accepted". I wonder just how much they make in "overpayments" each week. I consign £2 into the bottomless pit of the machine and they have 30p extra from me for the £1.70 fee, and proceed to park the car. Surely if they can make a machine that has the ability to print a ticket on which you add your car registration number, they can make one that gives change?
Inside the CDU its all hustle and bustle as hospital wards are in the mornings. cleo is sort of dozing when i arrive and a light kiss on the cheek wakes her up; she visibly brightens. "How are you?" I ask. "I want to come home" she says, "please take me home".
I feel tears welling up inside me already. I hate this. My love, the person I waited all my life to be with is asking me to do something as simple as take her home, and I cannot.
I note that there are different staff from yesterday, and cleo says she needs to go to the toilet. It seems that she is frutrated by little things right now: a line they placed in her hand yesterday, is hurting, she cannot drink except from a special drinking cup, and when she does she dribbles slightly, and some of her tea has dripped on her t-shirt. I find a nurse and ask for a commode, thinking that yesterday's episode will enable me to get cleo in a position to go to the toilet in comfort again. Not so!
A male charge nurse arrives and states they cannot let me lift her because it is dangerous. I explain that i will bear that responsibility, and that cleo need to go to the toilet. Finally, after many exchanges and some quiet, but rather forceful threats I suggest to the male nurse that he has 5 minutes to decide before I start getting really angry. Then, out of the blue, he says " we can use a hoist". Jeez, what did he say? They have a way to lift her and they didn't tell me?
So, we get the hoist, which takes a while but it makes lifting simple, and cleo is lowered onto the commode. She seems more able this morning to sit, compared to yesterday, when she simply flopped sideways like a rag doll. Anyway, while she is sat i wash her, and generally spruce her up a bit, which makes her feel better. We agree with the nurses that she can sit on the chair by the bed, and the hoist does a good job of getting her there.
Hospitals are always warm places, but this ward is like a damned sauna. I am sweating profusely by the time we are done, and i wander outside for a few minutes to cool off, and grab a coffee. When I come back we are told that they want to take cleo for an MRI scan. We agree that when she goes for this I will come home and wait for the girls to come home and return with them in the afternoon. In the meantime i organise and pay for the use of the Patientline telephone by cleos bed, which enables her to call out, and people to ring in to her. More of that later.
Finally the porter arrives to take cleo for the scan, and we say our goodbyes. I promise to be back as soon as the girls are home, and take my leave. As I walk out of the hospital entrance I feel weary, and I sit in my car for 5 minutes and relax before I drive home.
Unexpected Developments
I am sat at home before the kids come home, and I think I will call cleo. I get the number of her patientline phone and dial it. She answers and is pleased I have called. I ask how the scan went, and she says that she has seen the doctor. It seems they want to transfer her to a rehabilitation unit in Dover, which is about 25 miles away. I am thinking "I dont want her that far away". The QEQM Hospital is only 10 minutes and even that is far too far for me.
She is babbling now, obviously having a number of things she wants to say, and trying to speak too fast. I have to keep telling her to slow down, because I cannot understand what she is saying. First its this move to Dover, and then she says that the social services have also spoken to her. It appears that because I am not the girls' natural father there is concern about them staying with me and that while cleo is unable to care for them they ought to return to their natural father.
I am extremely upset at this although I don't tell cleo. She doesn't need to get upset. I file that one away for some time in the future to be dealt with appropriately, with the appropriate people. I then have to explain to the girls that cleo might be moving to Dover, and while it's much farther away it will be better for her treatment. I am slowly getting them to accept the long term nature of what must come: this is not going to be days, but weeks and weeks. They sort of see the sense, in that their main concern is for their mum's health, although that of course is balanced against not having her at home for a period that may extend into weeks or
months.
The afternoon visiting went well. cleo was buoyant, and seemed in good spirits, and the girls were pleased to see her looking better than yesterday I think. We arrived and found someone I did not know at the bedside: one of cleos brothers whom I have not met. When he left we had to broach the subject of going to the toilet again with the staff. cleo said she needed to go, and i found, this time a very pleasant and amicable sister who readily agreed to let me do my stuff, and provided a commode instantly. While the girls waited outside we got cleo on the thing and she duly did what she had to. Relief all round I think! The nurse even remarked that I may have to do this for her in the future until she makes a full recovery, and so it will have been good practice to get under our belts.
A scary moment
Home again and dinner cooked, and the girls are getting ready for bed. I am on the phone to a friend of ours explaining about cleos illness when my mobile rings: Sarah answers it and comes into the kitchen white faced "It's the hospital, asking for you" I think to myself " Oh my god, whats happened" as i take the phone. "Hello, its the CDU ward here, just to let you know we are moving cleo to the Stroke ward this evening, so you know when you visit" Major relief, and nervous laughter all round. It wasn't funny at the time though.
For my cleo
I know that cleo will read this blog eventually and now, sitting here late in the evening at home, with the girls in bed, and just my own company I want her to know how much I miss her. I wish I could just go to the hospital, wrap her up in my arms and bring her home. To feel the warmth of her love for me is the best feeling I know, and the way her eyes light up when she sees me, makes my life worth living.
Darling, I miss you so much, but I love you more today than I did yesterday, but not as much as I will tomorrow.
Now I am alone in the house, and it's really quiet. It is moments like this that underline how much you miss someone when they are not there. I open the back door to let some sunshine in, and the cool November air wakes me up, along with the hot tea I am drinking.
First thought: I promised cleo I would visit this morning, so I had better get ready. Jump in the shower, and I am away by just after nine.
First gauntlet to run is the car park at the hospital again. I note the sign on the automatic payment machine "no change given, overpayment accepted". I wonder just how much they make in "overpayments" each week. I consign £2 into the bottomless pit of the machine and they have 30p extra from me for the £1.70 fee, and proceed to park the car. Surely if they can make a machine that has the ability to print a ticket on which you add your car registration number, they can make one that gives change?
Inside the CDU its all hustle and bustle as hospital wards are in the mornings. cleo is sort of dozing when i arrive and a light kiss on the cheek wakes her up; she visibly brightens. "How are you?" I ask. "I want to come home" she says, "please take me home".
I feel tears welling up inside me already. I hate this. My love, the person I waited all my life to be with is asking me to do something as simple as take her home, and I cannot.
I note that there are different staff from yesterday, and cleo says she needs to go to the toilet. It seems that she is frutrated by little things right now: a line they placed in her hand yesterday, is hurting, she cannot drink except from a special drinking cup, and when she does she dribbles slightly, and some of her tea has dripped on her t-shirt. I find a nurse and ask for a commode, thinking that yesterday's episode will enable me to get cleo in a position to go to the toilet in comfort again. Not so!
A male charge nurse arrives and states they cannot let me lift her because it is dangerous. I explain that i will bear that responsibility, and that cleo need to go to the toilet. Finally, after many exchanges and some quiet, but rather forceful threats I suggest to the male nurse that he has 5 minutes to decide before I start getting really angry. Then, out of the blue, he says " we can use a hoist". Jeez, what did he say? They have a way to lift her and they didn't tell me?
So, we get the hoist, which takes a while but it makes lifting simple, and cleo is lowered onto the commode. She seems more able this morning to sit, compared to yesterday, when she simply flopped sideways like a rag doll. Anyway, while she is sat i wash her, and generally spruce her up a bit, which makes her feel better. We agree with the nurses that she can sit on the chair by the bed, and the hoist does a good job of getting her there.
Hospitals are always warm places, but this ward is like a damned sauna. I am sweating profusely by the time we are done, and i wander outside for a few minutes to cool off, and grab a coffee. When I come back we are told that they want to take cleo for an MRI scan. We agree that when she goes for this I will come home and wait for the girls to come home and return with them in the afternoon. In the meantime i organise and pay for the use of the Patientline telephone by cleos bed, which enables her to call out, and people to ring in to her. More of that later.
Finally the porter arrives to take cleo for the scan, and we say our goodbyes. I promise to be back as soon as the girls are home, and take my leave. As I walk out of the hospital entrance I feel weary, and I sit in my car for 5 minutes and relax before I drive home.
Unexpected Developments
I am sat at home before the kids come home, and I think I will call cleo. I get the number of her patientline phone and dial it. She answers and is pleased I have called. I ask how the scan went, and she says that she has seen the doctor. It seems they want to transfer her to a rehabilitation unit in Dover, which is about 25 miles away. I am thinking "I dont want her that far away". The QEQM Hospital is only 10 minutes and even that is far too far for me.
She is babbling now, obviously having a number of things she wants to say, and trying to speak too fast. I have to keep telling her to slow down, because I cannot understand what she is saying. First its this move to Dover, and then she says that the social services have also spoken to her. It appears that because I am not the girls' natural father there is concern about them staying with me and that while cleo is unable to care for them they ought to return to their natural father.
I am extremely upset at this although I don't tell cleo. She doesn't need to get upset. I file that one away for some time in the future to be dealt with appropriately, with the appropriate people. I then have to explain to the girls that cleo might be moving to Dover, and while it's much farther away it will be better for her treatment. I am slowly getting them to accept the long term nature of what must come: this is not going to be days, but weeks and weeks. They sort of see the sense, in that their main concern is for their mum's health, although that of course is balanced against not having her at home for a period that may extend into weeks or
months.
The afternoon visiting went well. cleo was buoyant, and seemed in good spirits, and the girls were pleased to see her looking better than yesterday I think. We arrived and found someone I did not know at the bedside: one of cleos brothers whom I have not met. When he left we had to broach the subject of going to the toilet again with the staff. cleo said she needed to go, and i found, this time a very pleasant and amicable sister who readily agreed to let me do my stuff, and provided a commode instantly. While the girls waited outside we got cleo on the thing and she duly did what she had to. Relief all round I think! The nurse even remarked that I may have to do this for her in the future until she makes a full recovery, and so it will have been good practice to get under our belts.
A scary moment
Home again and dinner cooked, and the girls are getting ready for bed. I am on the phone to a friend of ours explaining about cleos illness when my mobile rings: Sarah answers it and comes into the kitchen white faced "It's the hospital, asking for you" I think to myself " Oh my god, whats happened" as i take the phone. "Hello, its the CDU ward here, just to let you know we are moving cleo to the Stroke ward this evening, so you know when you visit" Major relief, and nervous laughter all round. It wasn't funny at the time though.
For my cleo
I know that cleo will read this blog eventually and now, sitting here late in the evening at home, with the girls in bed, and just my own company I want her to know how much I miss her. I wish I could just go to the hospital, wrap her up in my arms and bring her home. To feel the warmth of her love for me is the best feeling I know, and the way her eyes light up when she sees me, makes my life worth living.
Darling, I miss you so much, but I love you more today than I did yesterday, but not as much as I will tomorrow.
Day 1 - 999... and all that...
Yesterday morning, at about 0930 we were sitting in the lounge, chatting. Arrangements were afoot for Christmas holidays as I was in the process of getting time off work over Christmas....all was happy with our world.
Suddenly cleo's voice began to slur, and she looked "odd" for a moment. I suggested she sit on the setee, but she couldn't move. I knew at that moment, when i tried to help her move that she was having a stroke. I was gripped with fear because I am naturally a "worse case scenario" person.
I got her on the couch, and she couldn't maintain an upright position. Her left arm and leg were paralysed, and her speech was all slurry. I dialled 999, and got an ambulance. they arrived within about 10 minutes.
The Road to Recovery had started.
Now, we decided that rather than go in the ambulance i would take the car, to enable me to get back home easier. Thereby hangs the first problem: arriving at the hospital car park one has to pay, no exceptions. That is if you can find a bloody parking space! so, scrabbling round for £1.70 i get the ticket and finally get the car in a place.
So, its into A & E and the long wait, which of course is how it is. Luckily, as cleo came in an ambulance we bypass the standard queue, and she is wheeled into the waiting area and the fact also that this is a stroke incident the doctor examines her fairly quickly, within about 30 minutes. We sit and I struggle to understand what cleo is saying because her voice is slurred, and several times we both end up in tears of frustration. I kiss her, and she hangs onto me with her good arm, and she says "please take me home". This also brings tears to my eyes, and a lump to my throat because even at this point I know that this is not going to happen, and i am powerless to do anything about it.
After many examinations and questions the decision is taken to admit cleo to the CDU (Clinical Decision Unit), attached to the A & E, for further assessment.
CDU ward
So we are 6 hours along the road and cleo is in a ward which is simply an assessment area, to enable further observations to be made. I get in there and cleo is desperate to go to the toilet. Remember she cannot walk, or even sit up, and the staff suggest the only way is to lay on a bed pan.....
cleo is unable to do this, and they say "try harder".
So, I suggest a commode, and I will lift her onto it myself. At first I encounter much resistance but by very diplomatic and forceful reasoning, and an assurance that I am taking responsibility they agree; all through this time my cleo is desperate to go to the toilet, and I am getting very very mad! However I keep calm, and eventually they bring the commode, which by some careful manoeuvering I place my cleo onto, and she is more relaxed afterwards than she has been for some hours.
Telling the kids
This all happened of course after the kids had gone to school. At this point they don't know about their mum, and so I come home from the hospital before they get home from school.
When they arrive home I have to sit them down and explain their mum, whom they love more than anyone, is in hospital. The inevitable tears ensue, mostly caused because they are having to deal with something new, which they don't understand and which frankly scares them silly: the thought of losing their mum.
So, we set off to the hospital and I have explained carefully how cleo is unable to move, and that she has trouble speaking clearly. A good choice because they are forewarned, and ready.
I watch them carefully as they see her for the first time, and the trepidation melts away because they see their mum, and while she is immobile, and rather difficult to understand there is a sense of relief too, because she is still their mum and not some unrecognisable monster. They hug and kiss, and cleo becomes a little emotional too, to see her kids. We bought flowers on the way to the hospital, and these are dutifully arranged in a vase by the youngest.
Sleep finally
With our goodbyes said its home to sort the kids for the evening, and chips from the chip shop on the way. Life must continue and school looms tomorrow so its off to bed for them at sensible times.
Now I have not said yet but I work nights, and my shift means that I presently work Friday Saturday and Sunday nights each week. So having got home on monday morning at about 0830 an hour before the stroke happened I had not slept at all since sunday afternoon. I finally sat on the couch and dozed for a while. At eleven thirty I crawled into bed, our bed, which we share and which is far too big to sleep in alone. Sleep came quickly.
Suddenly cleo's voice began to slur, and she looked "odd" for a moment. I suggested she sit on the setee, but she couldn't move. I knew at that moment, when i tried to help her move that she was having a stroke. I was gripped with fear because I am naturally a "worse case scenario" person.
I got her on the couch, and she couldn't maintain an upright position. Her left arm and leg were paralysed, and her speech was all slurry. I dialled 999, and got an ambulance. they arrived within about 10 minutes.
The Road to Recovery had started.
Now, we decided that rather than go in the ambulance i would take the car, to enable me to get back home easier. Thereby hangs the first problem: arriving at the hospital car park one has to pay, no exceptions. That is if you can find a bloody parking space! so, scrabbling round for £1.70 i get the ticket and finally get the car in a place.
So, its into A & E and the long wait, which of course is how it is. Luckily, as cleo came in an ambulance we bypass the standard queue, and she is wheeled into the waiting area and the fact also that this is a stroke incident the doctor examines her fairly quickly, within about 30 minutes. We sit and I struggle to understand what cleo is saying because her voice is slurred, and several times we both end up in tears of frustration. I kiss her, and she hangs onto me with her good arm, and she says "please take me home". This also brings tears to my eyes, and a lump to my throat because even at this point I know that this is not going to happen, and i am powerless to do anything about it.
After many examinations and questions the decision is taken to admit cleo to the CDU (Clinical Decision Unit), attached to the A & E, for further assessment.
CDU ward
So we are 6 hours along the road and cleo is in a ward which is simply an assessment area, to enable further observations to be made. I get in there and cleo is desperate to go to the toilet. Remember she cannot walk, or even sit up, and the staff suggest the only way is to lay on a bed pan.....
cleo is unable to do this, and they say "try harder".
So, I suggest a commode, and I will lift her onto it myself. At first I encounter much resistance but by very diplomatic and forceful reasoning, and an assurance that I am taking responsibility they agree; all through this time my cleo is desperate to go to the toilet, and I am getting very very mad! However I keep calm, and eventually they bring the commode, which by some careful manoeuvering I place my cleo onto, and she is more relaxed afterwards than she has been for some hours.
Telling the kids
This all happened of course after the kids had gone to school. At this point they don't know about their mum, and so I come home from the hospital before they get home from school.
When they arrive home I have to sit them down and explain their mum, whom they love more than anyone, is in hospital. The inevitable tears ensue, mostly caused because they are having to deal with something new, which they don't understand and which frankly scares them silly: the thought of losing their mum.
So, we set off to the hospital and I have explained carefully how cleo is unable to move, and that she has trouble speaking clearly. A good choice because they are forewarned, and ready.
I watch them carefully as they see her for the first time, and the trepidation melts away because they see their mum, and while she is immobile, and rather difficult to understand there is a sense of relief too, because she is still their mum and not some unrecognisable monster. They hug and kiss, and cleo becomes a little emotional too, to see her kids. We bought flowers on the way to the hospital, and these are dutifully arranged in a vase by the youngest.
Sleep finally
With our goodbyes said its home to sort the kids for the evening, and chips from the chip shop on the way. Life must continue and school looms tomorrow so its off to bed for them at sensible times.
Now I have not said yet but I work nights, and my shift means that I presently work Friday Saturday and Sunday nights each week. So having got home on monday morning at about 0830 an hour before the stroke happened I had not slept at all since sunday afternoon. I finally sat on the couch and dozed for a while. At eleven thirty I crawled into bed, our bed, which we share and which is far too big to sleep in alone. Sleep came quickly.
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