No longer leukaemia…..but Pseudomonas…. and isolation, Day 46

I am not as strong as I was. I found that out today, as I fought with the king-size mattress to ‘do the turn’ on it. It fought back – but, even though it was bigger than me, I certainly wasn’t going to let it win. So I left it to sulk for a bit while I got on with other things; I left it to think of the error of its ways and to consider co-operating with me when I went back later to have another go at ‘the turn’. The ruse worked and, as neatly as that, it slid back into place without so much as a whimper. Result.

I was glad about that because I wanted to make and tidy the bed up, in order to put a recently-delivered piece of ‘the project’ by its side, so that when John comes home, he knows exactly where it is. Now, why should this be so important? Funny you should ask that. Well, I had the very self-same piece to offer him as a Christmas gift. The piece arrived in the house and it may still be somewhere in the house. But we haven’t got a clue as to where it actually is.

We only realised that we’d lost it when John came to the point of wanting to fit it. “Where’s that headlining you gave me for Christmas?” he asked. “Dunno,” I said casually, expecting it to be in the office/car/garage or on his desk. We have hunted high and low for the darned thing but it’s never turned up…..yet. Although, now that we’ve bought a new one, we’re bound to find it in a ‘safe’ place somewhere no doubt!

Anyway, the headlining is by his side of the bed so that he can’t miss it when he gets back. No news on when he’ll be home yet though. He has been treated all day with intravenous antibiotics and nebulised antibiotics, and we hear the nebuliser will be his friend when he gets home for the foreseeable. He tells us he’s not feeling too bad, but then, of course, he’s not charging about, he’s just lying in bed, or sitting in a chair, or walking about three yards to the loo and back. Not much exertion required just now.

At tea-time, as we sat down to our meal, Mum said, “It’s strange without John, isn’t it?” I had to agree with her. The strangest thing is that I am not able to visit the ol’ man. Normally I’m pretty much glued to his side when he’s in hospital; and I usually return home to an empty house and then do pretty much as I please. Not so now, though. Strange times.

All day people have been phoning or emailing or texting, sending their love and best wishes for John’s speedy recovery, and that’s been so lovely. I have delighted in the conversations I’ve had with everyone in whichever medium and been pleased to pass on the good wishes. Most of the communication has been on my phone. And if Mum has said it once, she has said it a dozen times, “What are you doing on your phone all the time?” This new way of connecting with people is so alien to her, and her memory isn’t so good, that she just must make the comment each time. Bless her.

I did do as I pleased at lunchtime though and sat quietly for three quarters of an hour while I followed another funeral service – today it was for Melva Brown. It was a very peaceful forty-five minutes and very poignant as I followed the order of service and played the music and songs that had been chosen to remember Melva by. Particularly apt for the occasion, and also for everyone’s current situation, was the outgoing track of ‘Smile’ orchestrated by Andre Rieu and sung by Jermaine Jackson. ‘Smile…. though your heart is aching; Smile…….. even though it’s breaking……‘ etc.

“Let’s be positive and take forward the good things” my friends reminded me today, which is a great philosophy to live by – and I do think it starts with a smile; of which I’ve had lots today, courtesy of John in our video chats, the family in their crazy WhatsApp chats and friends who’ve lightened the load, with chats or errands. Thank you everyone.

And the positive news in the government briefing today, as far as the Coronavirus is concerned, is that we are ‘past the peak’. I do hope so. A further 6,201 people, according to the official figures and as at 9 o’clock this morning, are recorded as infected, and another 739 people have died.

Smile, everyone? Well, let’s do our best. Because ‘maybe tomorrow you’ll see the sun come shining thro’ for you……….God bless.