It is now called the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery. As I sit here, the day before a feeding tube is inserted in my stomach, I reflect on how Valentina and Sebastian feel about the changes they’ve seen in their dad. What a thing for children to experience. They need a strong male and I am no longer that person. Summer holidays coming, always time for family adventures, but now I am sad I cannot do what I want. There is so much I want to do with the children every day but I am stuck. I am so sorry. Acceptance, yes, but real sadness.
Tube now inserted, grateful for our NHS; care at this hospital very competent and nurses understand my challenges. Twelve hour shifts; teamwork under pressure. Passion and compassion. Back to the garden with Joao, who went to the operation with me.
Getting help at 3am from a nurse, when future appears grim, focuses my mind on the pay people receive. How kind she was.
Thanks to the people who made the Neurological Complex Care Centre a reality.
While I have been in hospital Jane moved my bedroom downstairs, put the dining room in the lounge and made a study upstairs, with help from the Hungarian posse. Oh, and keeping the family going.
Angolan, Romania, British Indian, Brazilian, Italian, Philippine staff; folks, if you don’t like our multicultural country then there’s bad news; it’s too late. This MP, murdered today, said it well. The chapel in the hospital a welcome place.
Back home, Sebastian asks what it was like; I can’t talk and Thomas says ‘your dad will talk when he is feeling better.’
Today I cry standing on my frame. Valentina asks how it feels; like being punched. She hugs me and plays ‘Send Me An Angel’.
My dad feeds me porridge.
I am so grateful for Jane and Jampi as we adapt again.
These photos make me smile.