It is now two weeks since my mother-in-law was discharged from hospital into a nursing home and as she has now served her two weeks quarantine, yesterday morning we paid her a visit. Otherwise we are out of Lockdown 2.0 and I wonder if our Tier 2 status will, in effect, be exactly the same for us, plus some news on decorating here in the Dusty Museum.
Each day Rachel has been recording a little video and sending it through to the nursing home, so they can let her mum see it; a kind of keeping-in-touch. Rachel has also been buying her mum some nice new clothes as she has lost quite a bit of weight. Naturally these all need name labels sewn in, rather like school uniforms. It is fair to say, the dialogue with the nursing home has been excellent with almost daily updates coming through.
We went to visit, in a Covid secure kind of way. We had our allotted time slot and thankfully this coincided with when she was going to be most alert. We were on the outside of the home’s front doors, she was on the inside with a member of staff pushing a wheel chair and making sure the phone was ready. It reminded me of those old American movies of visiting someone in prison and being separated by a glass window and using a telephone to talk.
Seeing her mental and physical decline over the last two months made us both realise how things have changed. If ever there was proof that she needed to be in such a home, this was most apparent today. Other times we have wondered if we could manage by buying in extra care, extra this and that; but the answer is always no, we had reached our limit back in October. We did what we could but we must recognise our limits.
Having chatted to Rachel’s cousin, it now seems likely that history is now repeating itself. Rachel’s aunt, who died a few years ago, trod a similar path and seeing this is naturally quite upsetting and unnerving, especially for Rachel. At home we have kept her mum’s room pretty much unchanged out of a kind of respect and the hope she might visit, when Covid things clear. And yet today was also the day we realised this was unlikely. So a difficult time for us.
Visitors
Now Lockdown 2.0 has concluded, a few people are creeping out. I was stunned to have a visit from the peddling pastor who was hand-delivering a book we had ordered from the church. I have never seen him on a bicycle before, so I was quite impressed. We chatted pleasantries, I pointed out the swirling starlings with their amazing patterns before swooshing into the trees on the other side of the road, where they all make a loud racket before settling down for a kip. We both remarked on how astonishing the spectacle was; he then prayed on the doorstep.
Dudley and Katrina called in yesterday to collect some wood. Dudley has taken up wood turning and we found some hard wood here at the Dusty Museum, which otherwise would have ended up on the fire. It’ll be interesting to see what Dudley makes of that old oak gate post, the table leg and various odd bits of ancient wood. Coincidentally our friend Jo stopped to say hello at the same time – that was nice but we suddenly found ourselves stretched between our ‘guests’. I do miss friends calling around; its those personal interactions I miss most of all these days.
Speaking of wood, we had a young chap in the village come around with his chainsaw and associated equipment to thin out a large bay tree. That has already provided plenty of wood for next winter’s warmth. He also pruned back a hazelnut tree and a fig tree which was desperately in need of a haircut.
Still on the wood theme here at the Dusty Museum, we have had a chap come around to look at the windows at the front of the house (windows elsewhere are already uPVC double glazed). These windows at the front are original Victorian windows and, although in pretty good condition, are prone to letting the cold in. So we are after some kind of double glazing which retains the windows and the charming character. His plan is to make little double glazed windows for each pane of glass – over 70 for each downstairs window! It will be interesting to see how the cost works out but I fear the cost is going to be prohibitive (unless there is some conservation grant out there…..?).
Running
My friend Jon has been in touch. We had got into the habit of running for an our or so on Monday evenings through the summer. Things came to a halt with my plantar fasciitis and Jon was wondering if I was now up for a run.
“Hold on, Jon, I’m not sure. I really do miss running. Let me have a test run, see how things go”
And so a couple of days ago I had a little run, about a mile in total, just to see how it went. It was okay. In the evening my left foot and heel did feel a bit sore but all in all, not bad.
Then this morning I had a little run, similar distance, to again see how I felt. Again, not too bad but I could feel my feet were complaining a bit. I suppose this is a reminder of how amazing our feet are – all those bones being held together by tendons and muscles and then how we control our feet, constantly changing as we run, adapting to the speed, terrain and so on. Yep we are made in an extraordinary way and we need to keep our bodies in good shape by using them!
So this is the plan. I’m going to have a few more short runs, just to rebuild some distances and to do this gradually. I can’t afford to fall back into another injury again. I also need to do some stretching as I have become quite stiff.
I am quite hopeful about this. I get reminded every day when I see runners pass by the Dusty Museum. All in bright colours, some young, some impressively older runners, some light and lean, some slower and on the heavy side.
I miss the mental thought processes, where my mind goes during a decently long run. I miss pushing myself, feeling my breathing deepen, feeling my heart pounding and pushing blood through every little tiny vein in my body. I love the sweat, I love the soft muddy trails, I love the wonderful landscapes through all the seasons. Afterwards I love the endorphins – the Runner’s High – which brings that good feeling which only a runner will understand.