I Couldn't Care Less: A Frayed Knot

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A hypodermic needle and a vial

A Frayed Knot

A week or so ago now (it depends when this goes out) I wrote a journal about my wife passing out in Iceland and hitting her head. I took it into my head that this would make interesting reading in this space, and useful insight, or whatever. I don't know, I just tell you stuff and leave you to read it in your own way.

We got home that evening and Raven's head hurt quite badly. I massaged her temples for her for a good while to try and ease the pressure. She had sat herself (flopped, really) in the most comfortable position she could find on the sofa, and I found that leaning against our rabbit hutch was the best way to get support for myself, but it wasn't all that comfortable. So often when she is tired and in need of help, I sit where I have to, or bend my arms round to where she needs them, rather than moving her towards me. She lies where she needs to, and I work around her.

In due course I was satisfied that she was as comfortable as I could get her for the time being so I repaired to the kitchen end of our living room to make tea. Improvising meals isn't really my thing, and fortunately we had a set of ingredients all laid out, so I didn't have to do any work really. It's just the slight mental fatigue. You go to work, get called out to dash to an ambulance and be with your wife, then you're released (she's released, but where she is, you are) then you spend an uncomfortable and unrelaxing hour easing her pain. I think your brain sort of reaches a point where it wonders when it's going to be able to power you down for a bit. By the time I showered, cleared up, washed up and got to bed it was 11:30. For reasons I won't bore you with today, that pushed back the time I got up, which meant less time to run around frantically before I went to work again.

The following morning was chaos. I had ordered her anti-nausea medication several days previously but she had not been able to pick up the prescription owing to being in an ambulance at the time. Now we needed it, they only issue it in quite small doses and she was all out and feeling sick. We used to be able to get it over the counter, so before work I set off to the chemist at one end of our road. They did not have it. The chemist further away at the other end of our road (then over a road, then over another road) didn't have it, and said you couldn't get it over the counter any more. Mind you, they once told me you couldn't get the medication I had a bag of in my hand (long story) so I don't really trust them much. Long story short, I got home with no medicine and rushed off to work.

Lunch time, having inhaled my food, I had jobs to do. Firstly, I went to the surgery to collect the prescription, and then the chemist to collect the medicine. While that was being prepared I made another trip to do some additional important shopping (hoover bags) that Raven had not been able to do and would not now get out of the house to do for several days. When I got back to work I phoned her to make sure she was okay. She didn't answer, so I phoned a friend who, bless her, went round to Raven to see that she was alright. She popped by on the way to borrow my keys so she could let herself in. She returned later to tell me that she had left Raven in the company of another friend of ours. These little things make the world of difference, you know.

So that's the sort of crux of it. Your time is sucked away from you. Firstly you have to give additional time to caring for the person who now needs more care than usual. Then you have to find time to do all the shopping (I get food on my way home from work) and other jobs that they haven't done themselves. Then you try and fit your normal job, the one that puts money in your pocket, around all that. Then, if there's any time left over (which there isn't) you try to find some time for yourself. And for some people, people I can't begin to understand or find enough admiration for, it's like that every day. At least I get variety.

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