Another day in Manchester yesterday, and more tears from me. I was already teary after lying awake picturing him going under the anesthetic next week and knowing that we will have a few hours to wait and worry.
Then in the morning as I walked into the hospital I happened to glance left and read a poem on the wall that I hadn’t noticed before, and it said something about stars and that a life was beautiful no matter how long or short… Couldn’t read the rest as I was in tears again.
Pudding was very whingey yesterday and didn’t really want me to leave him. The nurses had two other infusions to deal with so couldn’t help distract him as much as usual. The upshot was that I didn’t get a break until 1.15 when I finally got him to have a little sleep before the psychosocial assessment. Stressful.
But I had to laugh during the assessment. Unlike usual when he has a new audience, Pudding acted more like he would at home. The lovely lady was trying to get him to do some tests such as matching pictures, feeding a baby doll and naming things. He spent most of the time asking for food, trying to escape, throwing things and generally being himself. Silly to feel happy about something like that, but I’m used to feeling a little bit of a fraud when he behaves so beautifully in company, that it was nice to feel justified for a change.
The last straw on the teary front came at the car park. I went to the office as usual to get the parking fee reduced as our treatment took longer than the standard time. Then when I went to pay the £5 charge it came up as £115 to pay! The security guy walked in at that point and when I told him I think he could probably see how close to the edge I was. He just said, ‘Go get your car and when you get down I’ll let you out.’ Bless him!