Chapter 553 - Without Rush and Stress
During this COVID-19 period of minimal social contact without a respite day, without Dance for Wellbeing, without speech therapy, without Sunday shopping trips, without supermarket visits my life is largely stress free. In hindsight I am surprised how stressful leaving the house has been; taking her to the toilet, having her clean her teeth, ensuring she wore appropriate clothes, transferring her in and out of the car, finding wheel chair friendly car parking, pushing her wheel chair around the shops, occasionally taking her to a "disabled" toilet, buying suitable food and drink for her at restaurants, often hurrying home for the toilet, has been for me. And I believe for her as well, including driving hazards, especially round-abouts which terrify her. And for quick trips out alone (such as collecting her Duodopa monthly order of 56 cassettes as I did last Wednesday), I am always rushed to return as quickly as possible, hoping that she will press alarm buttons should she experience problems or should I be gone too long, assuming she realises how long I have been away.
As I think on such matters, I am puzzled that I am not more actively busy at home digitising designs or researching family history, maybe putting my records in better order, or even making use of the new camera I bought ages ago. But no, I have done none of that in the last couple of weeks. Although I have sorted books and folders in my "dungeon" (although it gathers more and more loose sheets of paper, books and stuff, just like dust), cleaned the front room where my sewing machines are, allowing reasonable access to the three workbenches. And resolved a couple of technical problems. And a few loads of washing each week. Perhaps I am slowing down as I approach my last furlong.
The scratches on the rear of her legs healed at long last, remaining scabby. Last Monday she woke from sleep describing a dog outside the window; perhaps a dream rather than hallucination. her sewing room carpet was attacked, rubbing out the pile into fluff balls again and some rearranging of storage units. An occasional knitting session, extending those plain panels in very thick wool. She spent several days hand stitching the straps on the grey shoes she mostly wears, adding press studs because the velcro is worn.
Our morning here is sunny, windy, cool and blue-grey clouds threaten yet we intend to walk around to the local cafe where drive through or take-away service seems to be provided. If not, a healthy walk on a socail isolation day.
As I think on such matters, I am puzzled that I am not more actively busy at home digitising designs or researching family history, maybe putting my records in better order, or even making use of the new camera I bought ages ago. But no, I have done none of that in the last couple of weeks. Although I have sorted books and folders in my "dungeon" (although it gathers more and more loose sheets of paper, books and stuff, just like dust), cleaned the front room where my sewing machines are, allowing reasonable access to the three workbenches. And resolved a couple of technical problems. And a few loads of washing each week. Perhaps I am slowing down as I approach my last furlong.
The scratches on the rear of her legs healed at long last, remaining scabby. Last Monday she woke from sleep describing a dog outside the window; perhaps a dream rather than hallucination. her sewing room carpet was attacked, rubbing out the pile into fluff balls again and some rearranging of storage units. An occasional knitting session, extending those plain panels in very thick wool. She spent several days hand stitching the straps on the grey shoes she mostly wears, adding press studs because the velcro is worn.
Our morning here is sunny, windy, cool and blue-grey clouds threaten yet we intend to walk around to the local cafe where drive through or take-away service seems to be provided. If not, a healthy walk on a socail isolation day.
posted by Kilpike | 9:57 am
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