You know, there’s a lot to be said for the power of positive thoughts and prayers. Against all the odds, my mum has rallied. It’s unbelievable. Honestly, I didn’t think this was going to end well, but I’m now thinking that maybe her disorientation had a lot to do with the fact that she just hated being in hospital. She was utterly miserable, but couldn’t articulate the reason why.
The infection in her chest is much better, and ever since she pulled all the tubes out of her hand, her medication has been given orally so yesterday morning I lobbied the doctors to let her out. I knew she’d be much more comfortable back at home, and they agreed, so we broke her out of there and brought her back to the residential care home where she lives.
She’s like a different woman, I mean you wouldn’t believe the difference. As soon as I got her dressed and she realised she was going home, she perked up. She’s a long way from being well, but the crisis is over I think and there’s a bit of blue sky peeping through the clouds.
And thank you all, for your touching messages of support for both Mum and me. They really helped. Well, they helped me at least. Mum remains completely oblivious to the fact that she’s had the thoughts and prayers of an international posse behind her…I did once try and explain the concept of my blog, but it was a bit beyond her.
As for my diet, you’ll be relieved to hear that I’ve totally held it together for the last three days. I’ve found an hour to swim each day even amongst all the crap, and whilst I haven’t exactly delivered a textbook performance in terms of food choices, I have stayed within my food budget. I’m not going to get straight A’s for this week, but I certainly won’t have SEE ME scrawled in red pen at the bottom of my copy book. I did okay, all things considered. I pulled it back.
Although I might have bought a small handbag to cheer myself up instead of medicating with food…just sayin’ 🙂 (*innocent face*)
Yesterday morning, as I walked onto the hospital ward, the ward clerk pulled me to one side, and said Dee! I thought it was you! Don’t you remember, you used to live next door to my mum and dad! And of course, as soon as she made herself known to me I remembered who she was. We had a good catch up but all the time we were chatting, I was digging around the scraps of my memory to try and recall how big my arse had been last time she saw me.
Because it makes a difference, right? I mean, I know it doesn’t, but it does, really. If I bump into someone I’ve not seen for ages and I know I’m fatter than they remember, its excruciating. If I’m skinnier, well it’s the best feeling ever. I’ve been known to abandon a full shopping cart and slope off out of the supermarket when I clocked someone down the aisles who’d remember me last as a skinny girl. It’s too embarrassing.
Isn’t it stupid, that seeing an old friend and catching up on each other’s big life events can be overshadowed by thoughts about body image. Wouldn’t you think by now I’d be old enough to know better? She was pleased to see me, she sought me out and came to say hello, and she wasn’t remotely interested in the size of my arse either then or now. And yet, it was all I could think about when we were chatting.
Work in progress, right?