Chapter 534 - Another Week Begins

We spent a number of hours yesterday watching episodes of Downton Abbey, something almost endless we can watch together. Toward the end of the last episode of Series 2 (we had watched some 3 episodes) and she lost interest, wishing for something humorous. And her leg dyskinesias were bothering her. The toes on her left foot bothered her as well. So I found some episodes of Kath & Kim which she later said she did not understand. At early evening she felt she was slipping off the wheelchair so I re-positioned her slightly. Later, as I went to prepare her for the arrival of a Wild Dog Carer, cleaning teeth and the loo, she again said she was slipping. And that was what she did - slipped off the wheel chair onto the timber floor. I was stressed about what to do; all precautions tell me not to lift my partner, call the ambulance since wild Dog Carers are prohibited from lifting as are our village management. Each time something similar has happened my mind races through the consequences. So I placed a lounge chair behind her, bent my knees, wrapped my arms around her and lifted her onto the chair. Then positioned the Sara Stedy for her to stand into. Just as she was seated therein a knock on the door from the Carer. So we wheeled her onto her bed and with some difficulty changed her into nightie and incontinence pants; then using the small green slide moved her onto the commode onto which she was seated just in time to receive the largest bowel motion I have ever seen. The Carer cleaned her while I cleaned the pan. We cooled her perspiring body with a damp towel. Once comfortable, both fans blowing on her she went to sleep, quietly through the night.

This morning she is quiet. The toes on her left foot remain tender so they were lightly bandaged again. After breakfast I read some on line stuff then went looking for her to find her beginning to put clothes away from the four baskets full that have been at the bottom of my bed for almost a week. I know it sounds beastly for me to leave such jobs for her, usually on Wednesdays when a Carer can help her, but she becomes engrossed with sorting and filing activities,  although whether she find such entertaining or enjoyable I have no idea. I find if I attempt to be too persuasive about such jobs then she resists and busies her self with whatever she has to hand. So I have not bothered trying to interest her in the baskets of washing. This morning I found her having started the job digressing to hanging up my used trousers and shirts which I had left on a shelf; well I am a bloke after all! I cleared that stuff and loaded the washing machine and also roughly placed washed sheets and pillow cases in the linen press. I hear that the washing machine has finished its job so I will check on her progress with clothes sorting. It takes ages for her to put the clothes away, over and above the time taken to be neater than me when I do it alone to be rid of the task.