Mum came home a few days ago — they say she’s in the early stages of heart failure, and needs to be on a low salt diet. I’ve been keeping a spreadsheet of the nutritional values of food we’ve been eating — I’m not sure how to calculate values for home-cooking, but it would be good to find out.
Someone came from the local fire service to fit a Fireangel smoke alarm especially for me! It has a vibrating pad that tucks under the pillow, and it flashes like billy-oh. I said, “yes, that would definitely wake me!”
Mum’s of the opinion that absolutely nothing wakes me, but if this doesn’t, nothing will.
I was reading the instructions that came with the alarm. The first thing I noticed was how utterly *black* the booklets were. Perhaps we’re intended to think “this would be the colour of all my stuff after a fire.”
The booklets warn that the alarm can only advise me of fire if smoke reaches it, so it’s possible a fire will burn in another part of the house for quite some time, and by the time the smoke gets to me, it could already be too late.
However, these alarms can work as a network, so if there are alarms in other rooms which are linked, the first alarm to notice something iffy will pass the message along, and my own alarm would go off as a result.
I have a little fire angel sitting next to me… ain’t that nice. 🙂
We all had appointments with various health professionals over the last two days. My mother went to the community hospital to see her GP, and we had to drag her around in one of those portering chairs. I pointed out to my sister there’s a diagram on the back of the chair showing somebody dragging it with the poor passenger facing backwards. There’s a big red cross next to the diagram, so presumably we aren’t meant to do that. She laughed and said a nurse told her just to pull it because the steering is completely hopeless.
So that was Mum’s appointment. Today sister and I both had appointments at the same hospital; for me, it was to see a nurse about the anxiety, which I’ve decided is here forever on some level.
The nurse asked if I got on well with E… she claims she argues with her own sister. I said yes, we do argue sometimes… but the thing is, we never bear a grudge. We can be screaming at each other one day, and the next day there is no ‘atmosphere’… It’s as though we ‘get’ that the other is only human.
Then it was the turn of my mother’s cat, who squirms, hisses and bites when people try to clip her talons. It took two people to clip her claws at the vet’s!
I’m glad nothing much is going on tomorrow, other than making parsnip soup without salt.
Going slow with frequent breaks to chill out is a pace that suits me — I don’t tire out so much or get frazzled. Earlier this month, I was getting more and more stressed when we were going every day to the hospital. It wasn’t just worry about Mum, as you keep a lid on that and focus on the practical… it’s the actual going out, being on constant alert trying to understand what people are saying, and dodging between crowds who all want to walk where you’re walking or stand where you’re standing… that’s what starts to get to me.
You would think when you learn your way around and find out what’s what, you’d start to relax… but that’s not how it works with me. It sounds unflattering, but perhaps I’m simply a homebody! I’m mostly quite happy running the household, even in these dark times. It’s not that I don’t want to see wonderful new places, or go out and get along with people; the issue is that in practice it’s not easy and sometimes impossible — I tire out eventually.
Makes me think of the poem ‘Sweet Stay-at-Home‘ by W.H. Davies. Swop ‘sweet’ for ‘salt-free’ and we’re well on track. 🙂