Life seems to be really throwing challenges at the moment. I heard this week that my dearest aunty - my dad's sister, and the last of my aunts and uncles - had died. My uncle had died three months earlier and she had been holding on (against pancreatic cancer) to stay there for him. She was 86 and I will miss her so. The last of those who called me by my full name, Jennifer, and I can just hear her voice now. Sadly, there is no way I can go to her funeral - it's nearly 200 miles away. Keith is so bad - balance even worse and legs barely functioning - that I can't leave that to Tam to come and deal with.
Keith's health has gone downhill so much in the last few weeks. A month ago he could walk up and down the kitchen. Yesterday he came downstairs as desperately slowly as he had gone to bed and asked for the wheelchair to be brought into the kitchen to save his energy going from room to room. A gigantic brick wall faced me - just WHAT can you do, when the PD nurse and the Dr are at a loss as to why he's like this. Keith thinks it's the 3 half tablets of steroids he took the previous week causing a reaction. I still think part of it is use it or lose it, and you are what you drink . . . Trying to get this latter fact through to him is like trying to sell snow to Eskimos . . .
I phoned Powys Assist to ask them to come out and appraise the house, with regard future needs. When she heard there was no downstairs toilet/shower, that was one thing to be addressed or else a stair lift. We discussed having a hospital bed installed should Keith become bedbound. We discussed carers coming in when he needs them. We discussed my needs as a carer, which are important too. I don't like asking for help, but that brick wall is just too high to climb without a bit of help. Anyway, Care & Repair are coming out next Monday to fit some more handrails in the top hall so Keith can drag himself along those. Any PD sufferers reading this, PD nurse has said this is NOT the Parkinsons - it's something else. I wouldn't mind betting if he was on a drip for 24 hours, he'd be like a spring lamb! But what do I know?
Looking across The Groe to the Presbyterian Alpha Church. It was set up by Howell Harris in 1747 and the building has twice been rebuilt. This version dates from 1903.
As you can see, light levels were poor yesterday. I'd worn the wrong coat too - I'd quite forgotten how the river channels the winds along it.
I haven't gotten far with the Ken Follett novel as I am so busy helping Keith - everything takes SO long. I even rashly printed off a free knitted socks pattern. I know it's very unlikely I will even get to start them (think kitten-help here - I took out my x-stitch Christmas robin last night, and managed just ONE stitch before Pippi noticed there was an interesting piece of moving red thread . . .) I keep threatening to start on my Heirloom William Morris quilt. Then the thought of all the cutting out stops me in my tracks. I need to break the idea down into tiny steps. Just ONE block would be a start.
I made another crappy curry last night. I had bought a Patak's Madras curry sauce. It wasn't very nice, and too hot (yet I used to always have a King Prawn Vindaloo when I went out regularly for Indian restaurant curries.) Another failure. I think part of it is because I don't care about cooking any more. Bung it cookery is the norm.
Counting days here (as in infection developing days) as my friend P has come down with Flu (though it could be Covid, or could be The Dreadful Cough virus which is doing the rounds). She was here last Friday. . . That's how you catch things - not from shopping - it's being in the same room as . . .
