![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Hello Monday, my old adversary.
Today I have managed to get in to the office late after a night of interrupted sleep. Following on from that, it all went wrong as time evaporated and suddenly there I was, late. I shoved all my stuff into my work bag and managed to get the 8.50, though at Stratford London Underground were clearly running a service inspired by Benny Hill.
After much rooting, I discovered that I’d left my glasses in my other bag, so I nipped into Boots to buy a cheap pair of reading glasses to see me through the day. A tenner is good value for not getting a headache from eye strain when you’re already tired. I got into the office and have now just discovered my spare pair of specs jammed in a previously unsuspected crevice right down in the depths of my bag.
It is going to be one of those days.
Anyway. After some faffing, we got Mum home at the weekend. Nine weeks to the day since her stroke. I suspect she’d have been home rather earlier if the hospital had got it’s act together. I am going to ascribe it to inefficiency rather than incompetence; I’m feeling charitable.
Having got Mum home, Friday saw me getting the best night’s sleep that I’ve had for some time. I don’t think that I’d realised quite how much the background fretting had got to me. I recognise that my sister bears the brunt of it, but…
Saturday saw some doubts return. I’m still hopeful that being back home will give her rather more mental stimulation than staying in hospital would, but her short term memory is shocking.
We drove out to Wem to place a wreath on Dad’s grave – I can’t believe that it will be seven years in March since he died – and then we drove back to Shrewsbury to do some shopping in the Tesco Extra, including buying Mum a Christmas prezzie that she could choose for herself. In the event she chose a nice long red wrap around cardigan/housecoat affair that will keep her warm in the winter months. The downside being that when we got home and while I was making a cup of tea, she went through the bags, pulled it out and remarked how nice it was before asking who’s it was. In half an hour she’d forgotten about it again.
That evening she went to bed about 9.30 completely washed out – not surprising as the couple or so hours out and about was the longest she’d been anywhere in nine weeks. I stayed up to watch a programme about Dusty Springfield on BBC4 and at about 1.30 am as it was finishing, Mum wandered into the living room having woken up and not had any clue as to where she was. I sat her down for a couple of minutes before taking her back to bed, but when I turned in, I didn’t get to sleep for some time as I was listening to every creak and groan of the house in case one of them turned out to be Mum’s bedroom door opening.
I’m not so sure why I didn’t sleep so well last night, but I think I shall go out like a light tonight. Unless something else happens.
In the meantime, more coffee.
Today I have managed to get in to the office late after a night of interrupted sleep. Following on from that, it all went wrong as time evaporated and suddenly there I was, late. I shoved all my stuff into my work bag and managed to get the 8.50, though at Stratford London Underground were clearly running a service inspired by Benny Hill.
After much rooting, I discovered that I’d left my glasses in my other bag, so I nipped into Boots to buy a cheap pair of reading glasses to see me through the day. A tenner is good value for not getting a headache from eye strain when you’re already tired. I got into the office and have now just discovered my spare pair of specs jammed in a previously unsuspected crevice right down in the depths of my bag.
It is going to be one of those days.
Anyway. After some faffing, we got Mum home at the weekend. Nine weeks to the day since her stroke. I suspect she’d have been home rather earlier if the hospital had got it’s act together. I am going to ascribe it to inefficiency rather than incompetence; I’m feeling charitable.
Having got Mum home, Friday saw me getting the best night’s sleep that I’ve had for some time. I don’t think that I’d realised quite how much the background fretting had got to me. I recognise that my sister bears the brunt of it, but…
Saturday saw some doubts return. I’m still hopeful that being back home will give her rather more mental stimulation than staying in hospital would, but her short term memory is shocking.
We drove out to Wem to place a wreath on Dad’s grave – I can’t believe that it will be seven years in March since he died – and then we drove back to Shrewsbury to do some shopping in the Tesco Extra, including buying Mum a Christmas prezzie that she could choose for herself. In the event she chose a nice long red wrap around cardigan/housecoat affair that will keep her warm in the winter months. The downside being that when we got home and while I was making a cup of tea, she went through the bags, pulled it out and remarked how nice it was before asking who’s it was. In half an hour she’d forgotten about it again.
That evening she went to bed about 9.30 completely washed out – not surprising as the couple or so hours out and about was the longest she’d been anywhere in nine weeks. I stayed up to watch a programme about Dusty Springfield on BBC4 and at about 1.30 am as it was finishing, Mum wandered into the living room having woken up and not had any clue as to where she was. I sat her down for a couple of minutes before taking her back to bed, but when I turned in, I didn’t get to sleep for some time as I was listening to every creak and groan of the house in case one of them turned out to be Mum’s bedroom door opening.
I’m not so sure why I didn’t sleep so well last night, but I think I shall go out like a light tonight. Unless something else happens.
In the meantime, more coffee.