Tuesday, 19 May 2015


Dad has gone into hospice for a couple of days so that someone professional can observe his partial seizures and episodes of what we call the spins and adjust his medication accordingly. He's been in a better head space (ha, for want of a better term) than he was when I last posted 9 days ago, but this business of dying is awful.

Monday night was really scary. For hours there was something wrong - he was struggling to master control over the words and thoughts in his head, slurring out "you know I love you very much" and hitting the reset button every 5-10 minutes, following which we'd have to go through another round of explaining what we thought was happening, what we were doing about it, what he'd taken. It scared us so much that when the hospice visit was suggested yesterday, Dad could see Mum and I were eager.  The transfer yesterday was rough, and he spun for most of the afternoon, the doctor there to observe and confirm what we'd been seeing (and asking for help with).

I'm back at Mum and Dad's kitchen table, watching the cat sniff a dead mouse it killed earlier out the window. I have a plane ticket to Auckland this afternoon and another back for the weekend on Saturday. The two days in Auckland are for me to attend antenatal class and keep up with a little personal admin (my husband, my home, my preparation for baby).  The scan last week went well; my placenta has moved and is in a good position and the measurements suggest we'll have a good sized newborn on our hands (90th percentile head circumference, oh dear god). That's one less worry but I've been having terrible stress dreams about broken babies, losing babies and so on. My back is starting to really ache by the end of the day and the reflux is getting worse.

I've said it before but it's killing me to want to be in two places at once. I told Mum yesterday how it feels everytime someone asks her or comments that her daughters live in Auckland. It's not my fault and it's not my parents' fault that we live this far apart, but it's fucking killing me to hear how Mum needs more practical help and is (reading between the lines) scared about what happens when the pregnancy or birth prevents me from travelling any more.

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