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Tuesday 11 October 2011

Reasons to be stressful, part three

  • Littlest has insisted on a goldfish. Long-term readers of this blog will know how that always goes. 'Rosie' - the most antagonistic goldfish I have ever seen -  commenced her inevitable swim toward death in our home at the weekend. I have yet to understand why people claim to find fish so stress-relieving. To my mind, Rosie moves in a manner that suggests a good deal of suppressed anger.

  • Night-times - and their accompanying wakenings in order to replace Eldest's orthotic foot and leg splints - have begun to take on a hallucinatory quality. (The child is a miniature Houdini, who can undo 18 straps of heavy-duty velcro in the dark without a sound, and without even opening her eyes.) Mr Coffee and I take it in turns to set our alarms at roughly 2-hour intervals, but the mind works in strange ways at 3am. Last night I heard the alarm, woke up, dutifully put it back on for two hours later and then went back to sleep, fully convinced that I had set myself an alarm in the middle of the night solely as a reminder to set myself an alarm in the middle of the night.

  • The garden is turning into something worthy of its own strange dream. The thick spiky hedge rivals the thicket from Sleeping Beauty; the gardener who spoke with such promise of his chainsaw never arrived. The courgette plants that my mother's friend coddled into life for us whilst we were on holiday have actually shrunk since July. We have not harvested a single red tomato from about 15 plants. The peppers gave up growing several months ago, having proudly reached two inches high. It rains. It rains. The strawberry plants are sending runners out into the cracks in the patio.

  • In November, Eldest goes into hospital to have a large amount of surgery on her hips, legs and feet. Yes, I did just throw that in amongst a load of stuff about fish and strawberry plants. We will spend two weeks in hospital before returning home for a period of rehab which could last up to a year. The decision to go ahead with the surgery - which is intended to stave off the loss of mobility that  children with increased spasticity experience as they grow - has not been easy, but nor has it been a decision we have made alone. Eldest wants to keep walking. Her bravery makes us proud. And it makes getting up at all times of the night a price worth paying.

30 comments:

  1. I am thinking of you over the next few weeks. Thankyou for using the word 'coddled'. It has made my evening.

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  2. I think if there are big stresses going on, it is good to have things like malfunctioning tomatoes and grumpy goldfish to occupy your mind too.

    I shall be thinking of you all over the next month or so, and then during the long marathon-run of rehab.

    N xx

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  3. That's an incredibly long period of rehab. But she's clearly a girl who knows her own mind. In matters of fish and plenty more besides.

    Don't suppose you could dress garden chores up as some kind of post-op physical therapy.....

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  4. The thing about fish is they have miraculous powers of recovery from death assisted by the magic kingdom of Pets-R-Us.

    Oh, and I'm on Team Latte for the long haul. 'kay?

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  5. oh, my...what can I offer?
    Prayers, certainly, and my arm round your shoulder - from all the way over here.
    I'll be holding you and yours in my thoughts.

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  6. xoxoxo

    Please remind me of surgery date. I have not given up on the notion of an early November visit...

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  7. Dare I say it but I think the relaxing properties of fish increases with their numbers! One fish always seems to be a bit of a maniac but a *shoal* is a completely different story. (OMG! I nearly said kettle of fish!!!)

    Orthopaedic surgery is the long haul. Do make sure you all make time for some time out.

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  8. I pretty sure she gets her courage from her Mum. xx

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  9. will be thinking of you. x say hi to eldest and littlest from Miss K.

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  10. Will be holding you in my heart and thoughts over these next weeks.

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  11. What brave people you are. My thoughts will be with you and my arms, metaphorically, around your shoulders.

    Can't think of a good thing to say about goldfish.

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  12. I really, really want to see what an antagonistic goldfish looks like! Good luck with all your hurdles over the next couple of months. Here's to a relatively stressless Christmas.

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  13. Dear God how do you cope with the stress of all of that...? Thinking of you

    And veggies - we have suddenly got some tomatoes but only after I thought it had finished so we've missed them. Ruddy gardening

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  14. Won't do any fish ever again. They always end up eating each other.

    Your Eldest is very brave indeed - and I'm thinking that she has the most supportive and loving family around her she could wish for. Thinking of you in the coming weeks and months.

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  15. Oh man, I'll be thinking of her, and you, hoping that it all goes smoothly and that there's a coffee van and wifi nearby. xx

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  16. Agh, goldfish are much more difficult to take care of than everyone thinks. I hope all our "bloggie thoughts" help in the coming months!

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  17. Goodness, they are some good reasons to be stressful. Good luck for the surgery and rehab.
    Our tomatoes have suddenly decided to ripen, and we have our glut in October - unheard of before. Our chillies gave up months ago.

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  18. Alysha in Seattle13 October 2011 at 12:07

    Lots of good thoughts will be sent across the world to her - and to you - next month, but what a trooper of a girl your eldest is! Hugs.

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  19. What a courageous young woman you are raising.

    x

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  20. I'm sending you good luck and happy thoughts.

    (I've never successfully grown anything. Seriously. I'm bad)

    (fish? we had 12, now we have 10. Are fish cannibals? I didn't know)

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  21. What a brave girl she must be. Best wishes to you all through such a difficult time.

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  22. We've had cannibalistic fish, suicidal hamsters, and a sadistic rabbit ... thank goodness we're now way past the small pet stage. But a very jolly guinea pig did once keep a recuperating child happy for weeks after a nasty eye op. Will be thinking of you all x

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  23. Oh dear, my thoughts are with you too. I hope all goes as smoothly as could be expected.

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  24. I was all ready to empathise with the non ripening vegetables, coming from a similar neck of the woods, and then I got onto the last paragraph and I don't know how to empathise, and can only hope everything goes well and be amazed by your fortitude and your daughters courage.

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  25. I apologise for coming to this so late (I had houseguests) - they are some very stress-raising situations you're dealing with there. Especially the fish of doom wait I meant the op, of course. I wish you all the best with that, and hope you can find little ways of managing your stress meanwhile. Baths, massages, copious cups of tea etc. xx

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  26. yes, that is quite some girl you have there. Gosh. Love to you all, lattes. xx

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  27. Will be thinking of you and the Eldest over the coming weeks and months.

    xx

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  28. Go Eldest! Keep us posted, okay?

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  29. Good grief, I did pick my moment to disappear and miss all this. I am thinking of you all. I hope all goes really, really well.

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