Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Home alone - waiting

I got it wrong again. Our son wasn't over the worst. As has happened previously, one problem has sparked off another and his physio feels his normal sub optimal chest now has a pneumonia - badly enough for the GP to put him on the more 'heavy duty' antibiotics and suggest moving him back home might not be such a good idea.

He's getting good care, particularly from his physio, but we'd been looking forward to his regular days back with us this afternoon - that's not going to happen until he's rather better than he is now. Not that the nurses aren't good and caring, or that the care situation isn't going out of it's way to help, but when he's this ill, we want to be with him - and camping out over there is inevitably intrusive for them and disruptive for us - and we enjoyed having him at home to ourselves some of the time (and more importantly, he enjoyed it as well.)

Anyway, he's the one who's ill, so his health comes substantially higher up the priorities than our convenience, so we're spending lots of time over there with him. My wife's been there most of the day and I've just got back home to pull together a few needed bits, hang out the washing and be less of a clutter while they toilet and bathe him. I'm now 'home alone' again waiting to hear how he is, whether he's well enough for my wife to leave him for the night (or part of it) and generally rattling around the house doing mindless, unnecessary chores to keep myself occupied.

There needs to be a word for this sort of edgy, restless waiting state but I don't know what it is - it used to be the norm when he went into hospital as no matter how ill he was, only one of us was allowed to stay overnight on the ward. I don't envy my wife the stress of being there helping with his care, but although it's easier, I can't say I enjoy being this far away when he's this ill.

The one bit of silver cloud lining in all this is that as we couldn't cook, we treated ourselves to fish and chips for tea. Even enjoying that was a bit of a guilty pleasure.

I have to admit, I'm writing this post mainly for myself - but you're more than welcome to eavesdrop.


  1. I hear you, I do. I think in worried parents this is called "Keeping vigil". The first week my son spent with his father I found myself doing this sort of aimless wandering as I had all this extra time to do things and I couldn't think of a damn thing to do - and then felt promptly guilty for going out and doing anything that constituted a life outside of caring.

    Sorry to hear your son isn't well at all, and sorry also that you're feeling that utter helplessness that can happen when something is out of your hands. I'm also empathise with what other thoughts are probably running in your head that you didn't actually write because (if anything like me) I refuse to even entertain those thoughts in my own head, let alone give them power by putting them into text.

    Go out, have coffee with your wife, and breathe a little if you can.

  2. Thinking of you, Ned.