“I couldn’t do it without you” – it’s so trite, banded around so often.  But really guys, I couldn’t do it without you.

I am completetely overwhemed with gratitude to all the people who are helping get through my herculean to-do list & stay sane.  And I know there are more offers of help out there that I haven’t reached out to yet.  Don’t worry!  I will be doing!

My ‘to-do’ list (in no particular order):

• Take Care of Fergus
  • Making the most of the 8 or so hours a day he is awake & doing something nice together
  • Ensuring physio exercises are done, inlcuding spending time brushing his foot with a toothbrush (yes, really)
  • Taking to & from hospital appointments (2-3 per week)
  • Trying to stop him pushing himself too hard (mission impossible)

• Take Care of Children
  • Emotional support (general & specific to their father being so ill)
  • Paying for an endless list of things
  • Remembering all school & activity related appointments/events and making the necessary arrangements e.g. buying food tech ingredients, fancy dress, dress down day, take £1 etc
  • Driving to an allarmingly long list of places & back
  • Picking up things off the floor (this seems to be the main thing I am needed for some days)

• Running the household
  • Laundry, cooking, cleaning, shopping…the usual
  • Moutains of life admin…like everyone these days

• Rennovating our house
  • Into the final stages, but still so many snags to fix & they all take time/energy/phone calls/money to sort out

• Moving house
  • In 8 days’ time.  Not started packing yet.  Not contacted utilities.  Not sorted out broadband.  Not got any boxes.  Not really ready.

• Taking Jemima to hospital for major knee surgery
  • Now happening tomorrow (as long as there are not too many emergency cases)
  • Surgery to wire together her patella bone
  • Staying in hospital overnight with her
  • Trying to be a good mum.  She is really anxious about the operation.  I need to be the calmest and most postive version of myself I can possibly be.
  • Reality:  she won’t be allowed to walk for 3 months
  • Reality:  she won’t be allowed to do any sport for 6 months
  • Reality:  she is upset about all of the above – who can blame her?

• Music Exams
  • Supporting Evie by playing piano accompaniment in her Grade 1 Flute next Saturday (again, being the calmest & most positive version of myself I can possibly be.  Yikes.)
  • Taking Scarlett to & from her Grade 3 Piano on Friday – in a calm & positive frame of mind…I’m seeing a theme here

• Getting back to work
  • My more-than-generous employer will be needing me back soon.  At least I might get time for a cup of tea at work.
  • (For the record, I would give my right arm for everything to go back to a normal week where we both go to work every day).
  • Planning for the impact this will have e.g. getting Jemima to school & back every day; how will Fergus cope without me at home all day?  A lot to think about.

• Party preparations
  • There has to be a housewarming.  I mean, come on, this is a priority.

• Ferg’s MRI scan on 17th March
  • Well, at least there are some distractions from the scanxiety.  Let’s look on the bright side.

• Buy a lottery ticket – with this many bizzare things happening, why not?

Anxiety and worry that accompanies the period of time before undergoing or receiving the results of a medical examination (such as MRI or CT scan).

It was Fergus’s physio who introduced me to this neolgoism.  It’s the perfect term to accompany my current state of mind.

It’s like living your life with your head under a guillotine; the sword of Damocles dangling above.  One false move & everything you hold dear, your happy family home, the world you have built together, can come crashing down, ripping out your heart & leaving you empty, a void that can never be filled.

And there is abosolutely nothing you can do to change it.

Anyone read Round Ireland With A Fridge by Tony Hawks?  A good read.

Kate & I recreated the book yesterday on a more local scale.

In an attepmt to recycle our well loved old fridge, Kate took up my offer of using it to replace hers, and we met at our old (new?) house to move it from A to B.

However, about half way through removing the tall and rather heavy fridge from A, we realised that getting it up the steps at B would be unattainable.  So, plan B.  Into the car & to a charity shop.

A quick check online revelas about 6 charity shops that take white goods so off we go.  However, the first shop we arrive at, despite being on the list, doesn’t take fridges.  Not to worry, we call ahead & find that the next closest would welcome our working fridge with open arms – they will even help us carry it in!  So we make the 30 minute drive into Leeds, confident that we are doing the right thing for the planet (man).

We park up & I go ahead to rally the promised helpers.  Ah, but we do need to check it first, I’m told.  Did you not call ahead?  Yes!  I just spoke to you about half an hour ago.  OK, but we have to do a few checks.  So out we go, trudling the removal-wheels around ready to manoevre the man-sized fridge into the shop.  The shop workers lift the fridge out of the car as if it’s weightless (putting me & Kate’s huffing & puffing to get it in there to shame).  10 seconds later it’s being lifted back in, with the declaration that ‘the seal has gone’ so they can’t take it.  I am shown the miniscule fault before being cheerfully waved on our way.

Unable to give it away, we resort to the local council tip.  However, Kate’s car boot door has developed an unfortunately timed fault & won’t respond to central locking.  We tie the boot closed with the ribbon from a dog-whistle & curse the traffic build up as we head back out of the city centre.

The tip, of course, is closed.   It shuts at 4pm in winter.  After all, who would want to recycle a fridge after 4pm in winter?  What a ridiculous idea.

We consider our options.

And take the fridge back to our old (new?) house.

Pro-tip:  if you want to recycle a fridge, just pay the people bringing the new fridge to take the old one away.

Kate promises I’ll see the funny side.  Eventually.

Goodbye Chapel Allerton hospital, you have been wonderful & have taken great care of Fergus for us, but it is time for us to have him back now.

Hello home!  Despite significant mobility issues, twice weekly physio & occupational therapy appointmnets & severe cognitive fatigue, Fergus still manages a grin for his homecoming welcome pack!

It is wonderful to have you back!

Isn’t it interesting how frequently important dates seem to coincide with each other?  Some days are blisfully empty of appointments, while others toss you around relentlessly in a spin of diary clashes that result in mad-hatter-like mutterings of lateness as you dash from place to place.

We’ve just had a flurry of dates confirmed and it turns out we are hurtling towards a hold-on-to-your-hats Hadley family weekend:  we have Scarlett’s Grade 3 Piano exam on Friday 15th March; Evie’s Grade 1 Flute exam (with me playing piano accompaniment – I am more terrified than she is) on Saturday 16th.  And on Sunday 17th, we have the small matter of moving back into our old house.

To end the weekend in style, the date has just come through for Ferg’s next MRI scan.  It is, of course, Sunday 17th March.

I think I’ll be ready for a drink by that evening.

 

Tick tock…

We’ve been living with the news of Fergus’s brain tumour for 167 days now.

Tick tock…

It’s been 28 nights since Fergus was admitted to hospital for the second craniotomy.  Possibly just 8 more nights to go until he comes home.

Tick tock…

We are now 202 days into extending & renovating our house.  We have spent 163 of them in our teporary rented home.  Now just 26 more sleeps unitl moving day.  Thank you Cat – you are amazing; and thank you to everyone who has helped with the renovations – we’d be living in a building site forever without your help.

Tick tock…

The last MRI scan was 27 nights ago.  29 more nights until the next one.  Then an unknown number of days until the results.  And so many more unknowns to follow that.

Tick tock…

A whole 32 nights since Ferg’s last seizure.  A new record.

Tick tock…

Just 5 nights since payday.  A third of the way through our monthly budget already.  Going down to a 1 income household is a big adjustment – one that we’ve really not faced up to yet.

Tick tock…

Almost 6 weeks since I last went to work.  I miss you guys!  I will be back, I promise.

Tick tock…

We booked a holiday before we knew about the tumour.  Just a week in a caravan in Filey, but we love it there.  It’s in 39 days’ time.  Will we be able to go?

Tick tock…

How many more holidays will we have together?

Tick tock…

Don’t go there.  Stay in the present.  Enjoy today.