Extra portion...

Another day and another futile attempt to make sense of things. Joan lies in a hospital bed and isn't Joan at all. She's not there really, but I know (given the way she gives me as good as she gets) that somewhere deep inside her she'll be fighting. Joan is, if nothing else, tenacious with just a hint of bloody minded.

For my part I feel a bit useless. I'm close to tears sometimes, although I don't know why, and at other times angrily fighting the red tape and silly processes of the NHS. As a for instance, today I got a letter from Trafford Trust (PAL'S) asking me to get Joan to sign a form so I could act on her behalf. Firstly she is in a coma. Secondly the stroke she has had means she can't hold a pen. Of course my word wasn't enough for the process so we delayed the investigation further for a few hours or days maybe whilst they talked to the nursing staff to be sure I wasn't exaggerating. But I really had to push this. Meanwhile, a week on, the truth is going cold so thank God I involved the police on day one because their detective has already investigated and hopefully can fill in their blanks.

I never thought I would be thanking a policeman. But then I never thought that wearing mittens so that you couldn't rip out the tube that was feeding your stomach via a tube through your nose was an invasion of civil liberties. But it is if we aren't given a document explaining it.

The world turns and Joan, on the edge of that disastrous spin, clings on.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... Calm down, calm down, I keep telling myself. But I'm not really calm and when I feel helpless I try to compensate through wine and not letting anything pass me by. I think they call it belt and braces with Merlot. But there it is, that's me.

So there's the update people. Some movement forward I guess but nothing to make Joan even a little more Joan-like and at the end of the day, who do I cook that extra portion of dinner for now? You can't eat through a tube forever.

I wish she would open her eyes and speak even if it was to criticise me about my cooking.
xx