Sunday 10th may 2009

Maybe today we'll get some answers. That was my first thought when I woke up. I was slightly more upbeat about things, and was ready to go after finally getting some much needed sleep. This time I had to take all 3 kids with me as I couldn't find anyone to watch them. So I chucked them all into the car and headed to the hospital. He had been sent from his single room on the high dependancy ward to an assessment ward in the same unit. He shared this room with 5 others. He was starting to get the use back in his arm, and although he couldn't really use it, it was much better than it was the previous day. He could pick light things up, but it was still hit and miss as to whether it wanted to work for him. But to me, it was still good news. We still hadn't had the results back of the tests but I figured it couldn't have been too bad if he was starting to get movement back already, in only 48 hrs. I even took my laptop in for him to use, even though I hate his dinosaur of a desk top, but if it meant I could talk to him in the evenings, then it would be worth it.

I started to realise how lucky he had been, when the stories about less fortunate people started flooding in. A 24 year old man who had had 4 strokes and was paralysed all down one side. Another man couldn't do anything for himself. And there was my man getting better. Yeah.

We talked, and he avoided any questions about how he was feeling, and I never talked about how I was feeling. I mean, what's my thoughts compared to what he's going through right? And so we made general chit chat, and he played with the kids, and then it was time to leave again.

When I got home I made the kids their tea, then got them changed and ready for bed, and at 7pm I put them to bed as normal, quite ready to just flake with a HUGE glass of wine. Only they didn't want to sleep. Again. They were messing me about left, right and center. Jumping up and down on their beds, turning the lights on and off, getting out of bed, I spent the next two hours stomping up and down the hallway until I eventually snapped. I screamed at the kids to get to sleep, a few choice words may have slipped out unintentionally. I was done. I'd never been that angry with my kids, I've been mad, but this was different. A different kind of angry, angry that they wouldn't go to sleep, angry that we still didn't have any answers, angry that I couldn't make it all better, angry at myself for not being able to hold it all together. I was all kinds of angry. Angry that I was doing it all on my own with no help.

To clarify, all of my family live 400 miles away, and work full time, his family are a lot older than I am, since Walt is 22 years older than me, and his other sister lives too far away and doesn't drive. So I wasn't blaming anyone, but I was still angry that I needed a break, and there was no-one to give it to me. And yes, I took it out on my kids, who, yes, were pushing the buttons becasue they knew something was wrong, but I had been delaying telling them anything until I knew what I was telling them. The eldest was just about to turn 4 and the youngest 18 months old then, with a 2½ yr old in the middle, it's not like I could go into detail with them, even if I did know what was wrong. And just what the hell do you say to a toddler anyway?

The kids eventually fell asleep about 10pm, and then just as I was about to start the housework, the phone calls started. what's the latest, how is he? etc... Which is fine, I understand, but only 2 out of the gazillion people asked ME how I was doing. It shouldn't have bothered me, because I know it's HIM that is sick, and him that has to live with what's happened, but I WAS mad. I am the one who wakes with the kids at 6am after 4 hrs sleep, I am the one who makes their breakfast, and dresses them then starts cleaning again, and getting stuff ready to take to the hospital, that has to see the man she loves frustrated and not be able to fix it, that has to run around to hospitals and back, then feed the kids, bath them and put them to bed, and have the next hour chasing them back into bed and winding me up, and when they finally go to sleep, I have to do the washing, drying, washing up, hoovering, phoning the million relatives to give updates, before falling into bed exhausted at about 2am. So am I pissed? Yes. Do I have a right to be? Who knows.