This is the hundredth post I’ve put up on this blog.  In the run up to Carers Week, and the 5th anniversary of starting to document life as a carer, I’ve been posting pictures of items necessary for daily life here.  Here, this is me lifting MW into a car so we can go shopping.  I’ve done this hundreds of times but never seen myself do it.  So I asked the carer accompanying us to take this video.

Yes, I know you can get Wheelchair Accessible Vehicles.  But MW hates being “shoved into the back like cargo”.  This is an argument that will have to be resolved soon.

Self esteem

Isn’t it great when your self esteem is so borked – I mean, truly fucked – that you spend your time secretly trying to alter yourself so that your attributes match that list of attributes that others seem to find attractive or likeable or popular?  Better looking, more intelligent, more empathetic, better dressed, etc.  Wondering why Person X is fawned over while, no matter what you do, you feel like…how is it described in the film ‘The Equalizer’?  “When you look at me, what do you see?  The answer’s nothing.  …like a bottle cap or a piece of lint…just a thing to remove”

Where’s my self esteem?  In the toilet, where it belongs.

Maybe that’s the missing attribute.

We took MW to see her family again.  When I say ‘we’, I mean my Mum and I. It was MW’s Dad’s birthday while we were there.  He’s been fighting leukaemia for a while, now.  To tell you the truth, we’re surprised that his fight is still on-going.  We were given a prognosis for him that included a finite amount of time. Therefore, each celebration – birthday, Christmas, etc. – always carried the possibility of being his last.

This is not to say that MW didn’t enjoy seeing her Mum and brother, too.  She misses all of her family.  Her Mum does all the caring for her Dad, and can’t come to see us.

Although I may have said the same after the last visit, this may well be the last time we do this trip.  Five days’ of travelling and care with only the most basic of equipment have left their mark.  My Mum is in her late seventies and her health is deteriorating, too.  I can’t ask her to keep running around as my assistant whenever I get the urge to do this.

Also, I’m afraid that, as MW gets weaker and weaker, I won’t be able to lift her in the same way as I’ve been able to do.  As she’s losing core strength, I’m losing the ability to control each lift.  I don’t want there to be an accident that could be avoided.

It was good for them all to see each other.  There were a few tears, both on arrival and when leaving.  But, for five days, MW felt like she was part of her family again.  And I’m glad she did.

One thing that MW is known for among her family, her friends, her carers, etc. is her hair. Despite being older than me, her hair is still naturally very dark. It’s one of the traits that leads people to believe that she’s younger than she is.

This morning, I’ve noticed she seems to have more grey hair than usual. I don’t know if the way the morning light was shining on her gave the impression of more grey or if it’s a real change. Either way, it seemed to make her appear more fragile. And she looks fragile enough without losing this last bit of her youthfulness.