On the mend

It is with some relief that I say I’m definitely on the mend. I’ve just been doing the ironing. It took me the best part of an hour & I didn’t have to stop once to blow my nose. Admittedly I did have a good blow out before I started & now need a good one to go on. I’m still hopeful of cooking dinner tonight - something nice & simple like a Tuna Fish Pilaf, made with fish from a tin. If I can manage I will be able to look forward to further progress, further meals to cook, maybe even those few days away.

We didn’t get to the funeral in the end, though we did pop along to the golf club for a bit in the afternoon so we caught up on how it all went.

I sometimes think it’s one of those sad things. If Fran had died ten years or so ago, before the dementia & when she was able to lead a full social life, I’m sure the crem would have been full. Around 100 people turned out for her first husband’s funeral & the same, if not more, would have turned out for her. But yesterday, after so many years withdrawn in her own world of dementia, unable to take an active part in society, only 25-30 turned up, & most of them were family.

By all accounts the service went well, with a eulogy from a lady Fran used to work with.

I’m sorry we couldn’t get there, but I couldn’t face crowds with my streaming nose, & the Fox was struggling to fight off the germs. I’m still not entirely convinced he’s not going to sink at any moment. We’ll just have to see.

Fran

Today is the day of Fran’s funeral. Whether we go is still questionable. We had dismissed the idea as we would be in Italy. Now it’s health that is the worry. Yesterday afternoon my cold seemed to start to dry up. That’s not to say it’s gone but I feel I’m over the worst of it. However, the Fox is now failing. Whether either of us will feel up to the trip to the crem is dubious.

We’ve known Fran more or less ever since we moved to Morecambe– some 17 years. She was there in the days of Friday afternoons at the Pub. We did our best to support her through the death of her first husband, Harry. We attended her subsequent marriage to Den. We had a couple of Christmas Day lunches with them in local pub restaurants. Fran was a leading light in the days of last-Monday-of-the-month meals out.

She was always charming, always impeccably dressed, always a very gentle & generous soul. It was heart-searing to watch her fall into dementia, no longer able to look after herself or to know much of what was happening around her. She will be missed, though, in a way, most of us felt we’d lost her years ago as she withdrew from this world into that unfathomable world of dementia.

Continuing cold

My cold progresses. At least my throat is now less sore, even if the need to blow my nose or cough up phlegm seems constant. Yesterday I even let the Fox go to do the food shopping on his own. There’s no way I could push myself around the supermarket whilst constantly using my arms to blow my nose. Mind you, the Fox hasn’t let me out of the house all week in the hope my cold will go quicker. Or maybe he doesn’t fancy sharing the air in the car with such a germ-ridden Vixen. So far he seems to be still fighting the cold off, enough to cook dinner every day.

Meanwhile I shall start my travels once more. The jigsaw I shall start when I leave here is of Saint Tropez, a place in France we’ve not visited. We had hoped to on that cruise we’d contemplated earlier in the year.

On the whole we’re both glad to be at home. The stress of not knowing whether or not we were going away, whether to pack or not, exhausted us. It’s a relief to know where we are once more, rather than being in limbo land. Even the need for a holiday seems less urgent. We’re glad to be taking life slowly once more.

But first I need to get shot of this cold, preferably before the Fox goes down with it too.  Undoubtedly that is the first order of the day. We can think on after that. Any break may have to wait as I will once more be back to blood-letting & chemo by the end of the month. Winter will have arrived by then.