Losing the physical self

A couple of weeks ago I couldn’t sleep, so rather than look at the ceiling I listen to music and write, I do that alot. I write many things that only exist as expression. I wrote something about our time together on holiday in Greece.

I think of us always walking the shore
that tiny island that is no more
a private beach for us to moor

Ships pass through the linen veil
come and go they slowly sail
white sheets your skin still pale

The yellow costume your hair so fair
burnt skin glistens holding hands as a pair
a love so strong without a care

We’ll stay forever in our bed of dreams
A lifetime of make believe is what it seems
It is always and everything the only thing that means

There was a meeting today to discuss Anita’s progress and treatment. The back pain is still a problem; it’s hard to tell for certain what it is and it can hinder what she can do in physio. I attended a physio session, she did very well but the twisting required for her to rise to sitting caused a period of agony afterwards. She may have an X-ray on her spine to see if there is something wrong. It is getting better but it is still very slow progress. The heat pad often helps although it causes her skin to flush red.

Her sleep is more settled and consistent care is helping develop more trust with her carers. Her lack of trust has caused her to be much less positive in her movements. She is probably past the emergency immediate psychological requirements and has become more settled. Anita was asked what treatment options help and she agreed that the weighting on psychological help, backed by the physio was the correct balance. Ultimately she needs to find more meaning to her life but she is getting more to the point of making decisions. The hospital she is in can offer the best treatment possible on this basis. Our local council will ultimately decide the financial side of things, they may prefer to move her to Oxford.

She has become more motivated for activities and particularly enjoys swimming every week. Getting up in the morning is becoming easier. While she is in an open environment they would like to try her in an electric wheelchair.

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At the weekend I visited the exhibition Gothic Nightmares at the Tate. A suberb collection of fantastic and supernatural themes which dominated British culture from around 1770 to 1830. It is the whole genre that impresses, more so than the individual works, although I loved William Blakes etching (Plate 33 from Jerusalem) most. It’s hard to think of a time before the Gothic shaped our culture. The riots in London in 1780 helped shaped the work. Some of the artists have been proclaimed as mad but after visiting Anita on Sunday and seeing her face contorted with palsy and pain I can probably relate to them more than ever. I love the idea that by voicing our nightmares in writing or painting they hold less control over us.