There is film I saw a few years ago about a chap who suffered maybe a stroke which left him paralysed except that he was fully conscious but unable to communicate. The conceit of the film was to show us his hospital room through the eyes of someone akin to a deep-sea diver. There are similarities here with Kirsten's situation. Bear with me. Keep seeing visions through Kirsten's eyes. I guess this is what prompted me to take some of the photographs that I have. Her world view is sooo totally constrained. She is in an out of sleep and pain. The swelling on her face is increasing, which we expected. As the medication is decreased, the level of pain she endures increases. Getting the balance right, over time, is a challenge, both for the medical staff and for Kirsten. She has that little green button that she presses.
And from now, they are asking her to be an active participant in her own recovery: get out of bed, take a few tentative steps. Press the green button less. She is keen to do all this. She has a certain young lady whose company she has forgone for a while. Darren and Kirsten made a pact that Alannah would not see Kirsten (nor Kirsten Alannah) until the tubing was gone, and until Kirsten was recognisable as her mummy. Neither of those will be the case until next week sometime.
But, good news! I found her old copy of 'Pastures of the Blue Crane'. Granted it was at the top of the bookshelf, and on the second layer back, which involved judicious balancing on the arm of the sofa on my part. But shhhh ... don't tell her. If the stars are aligned, I shall start reading to her today. She can slip in and out of sleep whilst I drone on. She will know that I am there, and that I care.
Yesterday, I visited Kirsten from 11am for an hour and then got back to play with Ally from 1pm 'til about 630pm. Today, all three of us are juggling visiting Kirsten, with playing and caring for Alannah. It is important that Alannah feel comfortable and cherished and confident in her daily routine. If we cope well with that, and convey that to Kirsten, she will be released to power on with her own recovery.
Some more carefully framed images today. The brown liquid up high is her 'restaurant'. The two bags down low are draining her leg and her urine. The leg is looking really good. I have another one of her body from the neck down which I have offered to Darren for Marsupial Mum. If he feels he cannot use it for issues of delicacy, then I will show it here. He has hundreds of readers, whereas I have about 5 on this blog.
Now for William Butler Yeats and Verse 2 of 'A Prayer for my Daughter'. in times of trouble and turbulence, I always dip back into his Collected Works for succour and sustenance. He never fails me.
|I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour
And heard the sea-wind scream upon the tower,
And under the arches of the bridge, and scream
In the elms above the flooded stream;
Imagining in excited reverie
That the future years had come,
Dancing to a frenzied drum,
Out of the murderous innocence of the sea.