This is the new normal.
Only a few short weeks ago, Grandpa’s condition deteriorated significantly while Mum was overseas. I prepared her as best I could, but nothing really prepares you for that degree of change. She didn’t recognise him when I first took her to see him in hospital and still clung to the expectation that he might return to normal, to some cognition, some recognition. However, as I told her then, this was the new normal. The new normal for only 10 days as it turned out.
And for me, this is the new normal.
I do accept that. Not in a fatalistic way. I really just don’t want to rail against it all. I want to get back out and about with Alannah, in the sunshine, in the fresh air. Yes, even the best possible diagnosis following Monday’s biopsy will be tough. And that is the best case that Dr S know thinks less likely after seeing the tumour in the flesh. But if I pretend otherwise, it’s just going to be tougher.
With the best of intentions, a few people have said they hope I feel better soon. Or that they know I’ll get through it soon. I know that is not true. I understand why they say it and I try to break it to them gently: this is not something where you feel better soon.
And I’m not going to beat myself up wishing that it were. The swelling has gone down a bit today and Alannah has been inside too long. Tomorrow, I’m getting out in the fresh air and, I hope, sunshine. She is on antibiotics now after seeing the doctor today, so here’s hoping for a more restful night.