March round-up.

A quick round-up of the month. Not much has changed. Physically Mike is able to do less each day, it is a very small deterioration each day, but over a month it becomes more obvious. His physical state doesn't of course display itself on social media, and so friends contact me thinking Mike is doing well as he is so "active", the truth is, that with me having to do everything, Mike has plenty of time to post things while I am fetching and carrying. Just because he can rant about Brexit doesn't me he can lift more than the finger he needs to use his smartphone. 

I am tired.

March week three.

This afternoon's sky just about summed up my mood. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't find the daily small moment of joy that has kept me going. A flower, a bird, a funny moment, all escaped me. Like all things this mood will pass. Like the moments of panic, when I am scared I will never cope with life alone, until I remember I coped perfectly well with five children and no man, that I coped when Mike was in hospital and bed bound for a month when he did come out. 

In my head I hear all the cliches that people are prone to recite at such times. I will survive, I will get through this, I will learn to live with the grief, I will find happiness again. 

Mike and I are both coping really well under the circumstances, we are still trying to get a few things sorted. 

March week two.

So a quick update on what has happened over the last week, apart from the arrival of oxygen. We had a visit from a nurse from the local hospice who in turn referred us to the district nurse. The district nurse came on Saturday and had a long chat with Mike while he was doing his dialysis. He said the team would visit Mike weekly, but Mike said there wasn't really any need for that at the moment so they will be calling him weekly instead until such a time as Mike needs them.

At least I now have a couple of numbers that I can call should I need help, although I'm still a bit in the dark as to what exactly I should call them for. The limbo on that front continues. The hospice nurse asked me how I was feeling about it all, and all I could say was that I was used to the idea. I'm not happy about it, but I am resigned to it. 

Mike is using his time to sort out as many things as he can. He has a builder coming on Thursday to replace the doors he took off many months ago (it has been really strange having no door to hide things behind.) He has arranged to have a greenhouse delivered and installed as he thinks it will make me happy, he wants to leave me knowing I am pottering in the garden and growing my own food. He keeps trying to tell me what to do with myself when he has gone, and I keep telling him I will need some time to work things out for myself. I don't want to be rushing into bad decisions just because I am grieving. 

We still laugh at things and I still cry. We're generally happy in each other's company and I'm spending as much time as I can with him, the housework can wait. 

New arrivals.

Yesterday we had a delivery, oxygen for Mike.

This box contains four cylinders which can be carried around in a very fetching black bag. We also have a rather large machine upstairs that compresses the oxygen out of thin air (literally) and then pumps it via a tube to Mike. 

Hopefully the oxygen will help Mike feel more comfortable, we won't be having an open fire though anytime soon and Mike is banned from using the gas hob (he rarely did any way) and the gas BBQ probably isn't a good idea either!

March week one.

Nothing much has changed. The slow decline continues.

I find that I am suddenly hit by moments of intense grief, often unexpectedly or at the oddest moments. The other day it was while making the morning coffee, the cafetiere is built for two and the realisation that it will be too big for one was too much to bear. Watching TV and films naturally have me in tears when romance is on the cards, my lover died months ago and I grieve for that part of Mike every day. 

We have long talks about death, about whether the knowing and the preparation make it easier or whether a short, quick end is preferable as the pain of loss is concentrated on the moment. Neither is easy, at the moment it would be easier for me for it to be all over with, but at the same time I can appreciate the time we have had to say our goodbyes.

It is all so tiring.