Friday, 6 September 2013

Dear Alex, Sinking in...





Dear Alex,


Iced gems, glass of wine, I have finally settled you, Alex.

It's not that you are distressed in the sense that you are angry, confused, it is more that you need constant reassurance of my presence, even when I'm on your lap. Constant calling, and if I'm not by your side for a few seconds it's 'where's Tamsyn?'. Two hours to settle you to sleep tonight, I sit with you, stroke your head, reassure you of my presence. You groan. It's just noise, not meaning anything in particular, it's just a noise you make. Two hours has been a record this week, it was 5 the other night.

Carers come and go. I've been irate, reviewing the care plan is happening already, on Monday. It's just too much, too many people, too many times and I do most things for you anyway, am your comfort, motivator, stability, and the only one who understands you. It does become infuriating that people seem to be in the house endlessly just sitting. Then swopping over for the next person to come in and do the same.

I realise there will be teething problems. I bite back the reality call, that this is it. Hold back the tears when someone says in their experience brain injury patients can seem to make good progress then regress and not move forward from there. 

Trying to remain positive and strong and loving and accepting of already 10 or more strangers who have been and gone out of our home in the last 48 hours.

I look at your sleeping face, I sleep on our left hand side which is, by coincidence, a healing element for you, as you naturally turn your head towards me in the night, as it has the tendency to droop towards the right, this is strengthening the muscles which have tightened and shortened on the right hand side.

You haven't asked once 'when am I coming home?' Clearly you understand that you are, no reminders needed, which in itself shows progress.

'Give me a cuddle' the first words from your lips this morning...again, a realisation, a deep understanding even when you wake first thing in the morning, of where you are. Yesterday morning was 'where am I?' It is already sinking in.


I just have to grit my teeth and bear this bit...


When I look at you, sleeping in your own bed, next to me, I know it is all worth it!

Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

Thursday, 5 September 2013

Dear Alex, Home...





Dear Alex,

One arm behind your head, breathing deeply, you sleep. 

In our bed.

Not alone in a care home, in our bed, in our home in our new life together.

Arriving safely on September 4th, 2 days after I arrived. Amidst the unpacking, losing the dog, having to collect him some hours later from a vets as he had been handed in! The kids have gone off for a while to stay with my uncle and aunt, so you have quiet adapting time. 

Several carers have been and gone, 24 hours and 6 hour shifts, doubling up for an hour or so four times a day...my head is spinning, this bit is hard...this evening I find myself exhausted. I do hate this part, the intrusion, the energy one must invest in sharing the 'how did he get like this?' Story, the corrections of 'no, please just assist Alex, don't do it for him' mantra that I should just have tattooed on me somewhere to save me from repeating myself dozens of times a day. The 'does he like weetabix?' Comments...'ask Alex, he will tell you what he likes, what he doesn't!' It is hard not to be resentful and become angry and snap and snipe...very hard. But I bite my tongue, breathe and thank God you are home and for the people who are carers which is how I get to have you home, with their help.

I don't know if it is the lack of dignity, the fact that reality of real life and care and how if I thought I worked hard when you were in the care home...my God I knew nothing of that compared to what it is like with you at home!

But it is different, it is not empty hard work, there aren't the battles I would have daily, 'why have you left him like this? Why was no one responding to Alex when he was calling you? ' The pile of T shirts you tore off your upper body in distress because no one came to you..which speaks volumes in its ripped, scrumpled up and shoved into a bag forgotten about state...

I feel open. I can breathe, the house is a dream house! I'm rather shell shocked at the moment, but it is all for the good of the rest of our lives. And after the lorry load, full to the brim and bursting, I am never doing that again!

The house is roughly organised, just to sort through drawers now, everything else unpacked, in it's place.

Wonderful neighbours surround, and I cannot believe what it is like, I am home...not just you Alex, but me too! 

We are home...


We did it baby, and I am so proud, so tired and in bed beside you...as I wrote this sentence, you sleep talk 'love you Tamsyn, love you, I love you Tamsyn' 

I love you too my angel


Me xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx