Off & away??

We finally decide on a hotel. So Thursday evening I ring up to book. I always phone to make sure access is as easy as they say. Experience has taught me that some places have wheelchair symbols because you can get to the bar or the restaurant, but you may not be able to get to a bedroom. My first question concerns access. Yes they do have a room. It is on the first floor. They have no lifts but they do have a stairlift. The room is fully equipped with grab rails. The best price they can offer is £165 for Dinner Bed & Breakfast one night & Bed & Breakfast the other night.

I decide this required some thinking about. A stairlift means having to transfer from wheelchair to stairlift seat, & at the other end from stairlift seat to wheelchair, an exhausting business, as well as requiring someone to carry the wheelchair up &  down the stairs. To me, that denies me much independence & makes me feel a bit of a nuisance. I know, in all probability I would be negotiating the stairs with the Fox but what if I did want to be on my own, want to get something I’d forgotten in the bedroom for example?

By Friday, our friends at the golf club are surprised to see us. We’d mentioned earlier in the week we were hoping to get away for the weekend, so when we are late arriving they’d assumed we had indeed gone away. I explain the dilemma. They all assure me not to be so silly & go ahead & book. The Fox is quite happy to get the wheelchair up & down the stairs, & it does look a very nice hotel & comes personally recommended.

So I come home resolved to ring up & book. After all we are only going away for a couple of days. I can manage with a little less independence for a couple of days. I’m just about to ring when the Fox says “Don’t. You’ve clearly got reservations.” I leave it until we have the chance to talk over the matter together.

So, come Saturday, I ring up the hotel again. I’m ready to book. It is a different person on the phone. She once more informs me about the chairlift. OK, I say. She then adds the chairlift only takes me to the first floor landing. I will then have to negotiate 3 steps to get to the bedrooms. That’s the killer. Steps are a no-no for me. Why couldn’t the first receptionist have told me that on Thursday & saved me all that timed dithering?

I try our second choice hotel. Yes they have two ground floor rooms. One fully accessible with sliding bathroom door enabling you to take the wheelchair into a wet room, one with a more normal opening door & a shower over the bath. I said either would do. For a couple of nights I can manage without a shower, especially since I will probably have one the morning before we leave home. She decides the one with the wetroom was the better bet for me, even though I tell her I will probably walk within the bedroom.

So now we have a room booked. It’s a long time since we last visited Penrith. I was still walking then, so it must be over 20 years ago. We’re quite looking forward to going again. We wonder if the excellent bookshop there is still in business. We’ll see.

But then yesterday, the Fox started shivering, followed by breaking out into a sweat. He aches throughout. What now? He had his flu jab weeks ago, so he surely can’t have that. By the evening he’d decided it’s just a bad cold. It will be the first time he’s had one since he had his stroke. The stroke has left him with a weakness on his left side. Clearly, if he’s off colour, that is where it will show up first.

 Now we wait to see what happens. Will we get to Penrith? For that matter how am I going to get to the hospital this week if the Fox is going to be ill?

We’re both keen for me to not delay this appointment. I’m going to have another scan to find out if my pancreas has now shrunk back to more normal dimensions. If it has, I can start to think of having a little alcohol again. It would be nice to have a glass of wine with dinner once more.