I’m keeping quiet about my enjoyment of the heat. So many are grumbling about it – thunderstorms due over the weekend, so at least there will be something new to grumble about. It’s why the English love our weather.
My last weekly Friday meeting with the Acting Head. I hugged and thanked her at the end – it’s been pretty tricky, with various events beyond anyone’s control (such as the flooding in last week’s rainstorm – the good news there is that we’ve got the grant for a new roof and the builder can do it over the summer) but she’s done superbly well and we have also got to know each other better and that has been a pleasure too.
I had to be back by 11 for our appointment with the psychiatric nurse – in fact, I was back by ten to, and drove in our drive behind her. She was lovely, we both liked her. And, having talked for quite a long time to both of us, she concluded that, in her opinion, R’s illness is not caused by mental problems, depression or a breakdown. I have thought about it a lot myself, doing my best to take a mental step back and consider it dispassionately, and I had reached that conclusion too – with evidence, obviously, because I’ve done a lot of evaluating over the years and am quite good at it. He is pretty low now, of course, but that’s the effect of the weight loss, not the cause of it, we believe.
Not that this takes us any further, and we still have no diagnosis. But R was able to eat a few chocolate digestives this afternoon and ate a pretty good dinner, with the result that I felt able to eat as well.
So things are pretty good at the Zeddery this evening – not that there’s any more nor less reason to be optimistic, but I take a good day and appreciate it, without expectations one way or the other.
When my mother was very up and down in health, she went from optimism to gloom, because she never learned to be realistic. On a good day, she would hope that everything would go swimmingly from then on, on a bad one she would despair. I asked her to try not to project forward, but to accept each day, knowing that a bad day wouldn’t last forever and a good one should be enjoyed for itself, but she was almost wilfully against that. She equated realism with pessimism, but it isn’t really. She’d have called herself an optimist, but she was so hopelessly unrealistic that she was constantly being disappointed. I’m better being calm and cheerful whenever possible – and, when it isn’t, I try to be patient.
And isn’t that all easy to say? Hah. Have a good weekend, darlings.
A few photos to finish with –
Selfie with new summer dress. Yes, it is unsuitably short. I don’t care. 60 is the new 80 as far as I’m concerned.
The bed in front of the wall is in its third year and it’s been lovely. It still looks pretty good.
We’re not quite keeping pace with the chickens. This is this week’s surplus – not quite true, R had three eggs for supper and I had two; all the same, we have at least six surplus eggs a day. I shall have to give some away over the weekend.