Imperfect

Once again, tonight’s visit by me and Alice was imperfect. J got cross when I fussed over her electric chair control. Her ankles and feet were badly swollen. She had a pain in her side and we got a nurse to give her some paracetamol but it was still hurting when we left – they’ll have given her something stronger.

We did watch Top Gear but it was like trying to watch the Christmas Day Bond film with your 94-year-old grandma. Juliet just isn’t really “into” it; she used to be, save for the cars skidding round the track sequences.

Unfortunately, we can no longer have the sort of heart-to-heart conversation that we did less than two weeks ago. We simply can’t follow what J is saying – although most of the words are there.

It’s not the first hurdle we’ve faced, not by a long way. We’ll get over it.

Alice and I saw a young sand-coloured deer on the village outskirts as we left. Ducks a few days ago, now deer.

About hodders

Husband and proud father of two daughters. Now a widower. Trying to balance between not dwelling on Juliet's death, but telling the world how much I loved her. Tricky.
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