Dear Blog. Dear Friends. Dear anybody who reads this. Life continues to be a touch on the difficult side. Didn’t sleep last night with anxiety. Well, perhaps I caught an hour before I woke up with panic. My mum’s still suffering with this mysterious condition. I thought we’d got over the worst of it last week by Wednesday. She was brighter and moving around the house on her own. I think the Ibuprofen (why does that word have to be so tricky to spell? I always begin “ibro”…) had helped her neck. Only that’s when she started to complain that the tablets were making her woozy. So, we reduced them and now her neck is almost as bad as ever. We might need stronger tablets. Last time she had this she was on Naproxen.
Not sure why I’m telling you all this except, perhaps, as an excuse for not filling the blog with interesting pieces about politics and culture, or even the odd cartoon with the usual gripes about life. It’s not because I don’t want to write. I probably won’t get any paid work done this week, which is a sign of how bad it’s been…
Sigh. Rang 111 this morning and they offloaded us back to the GP. I suppose things sound less scary when they’re abstractly reduced to symptoms fed into an algorithm. Sitting with somebody who is clearly unwell is much harder to stay rational. I feel helpless. I can’t tell which complains are minor and which more significant. She has bad eyes and needs a hearing aid. She also has her new knees which work fine but the rest of her is too woozy to make them go.
Then there’s COVID. In the last couple of days, I’ve accepted that we might need to venture out or, at least, invite help into the house to see if we can sort this. It bothers me less than I thought it would. I need this sorting. I need some help to tell me the problem and to tell me that I’m doing the right thing. Times like this I really hate being the wrong kind of doctor.
I know the system is no longer built for individual care but at times like this I can’t be bothered with the politics. I want help. Except nobody wants to help. Everything over the phone. Remote. Perhaps that’s good. Perhaps this is just a really bad neck (and with a migraine, yesterday, caused by it or merely coincidence), combined with loads of stress she’s clearly been feeling. I just feel pretty helpless. All I can do is wait to see if she improves with the heat pads, the ibroprufen (though wish I had something stronger) and lots of TLC.
Sorry with burdening you with this. Again.
I suppose I just wanted to say I’m still here.