Being Human

Over the last few weeks, as I've started making more and more noise about Steve's situation, there's been a big long line of people queueing up to tell me that I'm "brave, strong," and lots of other adjectives to the effect of, all with the very best of intetions and designed to keep my pecker up. I appreciate it, I really genuinely do.

But I'm not. I'm human, I'm falable, I've made mistakes, some I don't even regret; I'm selfish and stubborn.

And I'm frightened. I'm frightened of losing the one relationship I've had that has been truly, properly happy. Or have I already lost it? That's the really scary thing. I don't know.

Yeah he has times where he resembles the person he once was, his love for me and Meg is unwaivering, but then he'll tell me that a patient came in and moved him out into the coridoor in the middle of the night, then moved him back, then made him a cup of tea.

He hasn't dressed at all today, the Nurses are unable to convince him to want to even dress, and to see him t-shirt less today, I for the first time noticed how much muscle wastage he has on his top half now. He says he just feels too ill to be hoisted into his chair. His arms tremble and flail about uncontrolled. This is also partially a new thing.

He's already told me that if he has to go into a nursing home he wants to go into one in Teesdale, and I can't argue with that. He really only has me and Meg down here and with the best will in the world, she's a teenager. His needs surpass my own. Seems like I'm just attention seeking, but it's just true.

Add a brutally honest conversation with my favourite of Steve's nurses, I've been on the edge of tears now for hours. But I really appreciated being able to speak honestly. The first time out loud I think.

We discussed the things that have just happened today and how I would cope if he was to come home. It's impossible. Even with four calls a day. I just don't know how it could possibly happen - especially not in our house. And getting re housed? Six months, minimum, I'd say. And then to walk in to an emotional Steve who just desperately wants to go home.
His SAT's have been dropping very low overnight, he's had the ECG monitor, oxygen and a nurse sat with him too last night.

It feels terribly self indulgent writing like this, inflicting my misery on you, but I don't want to be painted as some kind of saint. I'm not. I'm just a scared, lonely, sad nearly middle aged woman with even less idea of what's around the corner than anyone else. All I know is that it's highly likely to be emotionally devastating.

I know, I have to "look after myself" and all that, I'm forcing myself to go out, be active socially, keep my connections because one day I might need all of these people. Who am I kidding, I need them all now.

Wedding Blessing

This was a secret for Steve - a year we had spent planning it. Bloody good job it was when it was, though - a week later it would have been physically impossible.