Today was the first of the new regime which ‘my lovely’ and I had worked out, resulting in something like an extra hour in bed for me. When this had been discussed previously I had rejected it on the grounds that if I woke at roughly the same time as earlier I could find myself with an agonising hours pain to work through whereas now I am got out of bed virtually as I wake.
At 7.30 my carers appeared and eased me up to a sitting position at the side of the bed. Previously this manoeuvre would have been carried out at 6.30 by ‘my lovely’. We would then go through a ritual of bending and stretching, each of my legs then the same with my arms. We would then have our morning tea before eating lavishly on one biscuit of Weetabix and a little milk. This delicious meal was enhanced with a small glass of orange juice to which would have been added a tablet of Berroca with a vitamin and mineral which according to the box in which the tablets were sold did almost everything including the morning washing up! While the delicious flavours of the cardboard like Weetabix lingered on my lips I would enjoy a small cup of black coffee. At this point’ my lovely’ would start getting ready for the attack on my face with the latest of electric razors. This magnificent piece of engineering (sadly must be German with a name like Braun) designed to give what we all crave, ‘a close shave’ but in the hands of an amateur cannot be said to achieve this. Following this generally unacceptable scrape over my face (bless her, she really does her best), I think there are another half a dozen or so tablets I have to take before one of the two carers will come and spray some varnish or other on my few remaining strands of hair, thus eliminating my previous identity as a mad professor. The final act of the past regime would have been for ‘my lovely’ to have read a few more pages of one of my son’s books about the family. I have at least learned something as astute readers will have noted me boastfully saying how my son has traced his mother’s family back for 1000 years, it now turns out that I was wrong – it is more like 1260! This is a charming start to the day to really listen to Smiler’s work whereas previously, in the bustle of my busy life I probably skim read them and did not do justice to the sensitive use of the English language employed by the author.
All of this would be carried out before any carer appeared. Now is the beginning of the new regime where I would have an extra hour in bed and the other washing, shaving, hair etc would all be carried out by the carers. When we had chosen to have the carers in at 7.30 it was on the assumption that I would be bored stiff at this late hour and be happy to get up. This is not as it has turned out as, as long as the painkillers continue to do their job I have enjoyed the extra hour in bed. It is early days yet but after two days of the new regime I seem to have benefited from that additional hour. I certainly felt fresher this morning than I have done for some considerable time. Let us pray that this continues.
The good Dr Michael packed his bag and took his leave late afternoon. It really was a mercy mission this time and he has very generously said he would try to fit us in for a visit before Christmas. I have also awoken to the sense in trying to follow the jug half full principle, thus preserving what little energy I am given to playing with each day. (See blank entry).
As my voice has become little more than a whisper and which deteriorates more as the day goes on, I have great apprehension about being able to maintain this blog. To get up each day with no task ahead of me, I should find devastating. I have always set out each day with a purpose. My great grandfather, Frederick Dutton was a perfect mentor. You can understand therefore how delighted I was to find that my buddy gooseneck microphone is as good as the package it comes in on which it says it can take my thin wispy speech and turn it into reasonably good written word. Let us hope that this continues.