Intensive care (day 9)
It’s a bitter cold morning, dark with driving rain to match my mood. I am starting to think ahead, I will have to go back to work soon and thats going to make visiting difficult. There are loads of appointments that I had organised for her that need cancelling. From talking to Doctors she could be in the hospital weeks rather than days.
She is sat up in her chair, head falling to her right. She is much improved and is talking all the time. Not that I can hear her, her lips move but no sound comes out. I get her to write. The first thing she writes is ‘Why are we in Australia’. OK, that has really not helped ease my fears. She follows this with ‘I asked for ice cream’ and ‘I had no plans to do it just had a dreadful time and could not escape’. She then starts to go on about Paula Yates so I figure it’s something to do with suicide. She is very very upset but shows good clarity and is still able to laugh. I think she realises the risk of more brain injury and is concerned she can’t talk so I reassure her.
She is progressing well, even though she is now moved to a room on her own because she has got MRSA. It’s not always the big problem those words conjure up in peoples minds. It’s a chest infection. She has now been talking all day and is becoming easier to understand. She is mostly OK but I think she has become a little confused by her recent time on a ventilator. She has imagined all sorts of strange things.
The mental health people from our local area are keeping an eye open for her return. She tells me she is not mad or hearing voices or anything. As far as I am concerned I think it’s simple, when someone wishes to die because they are not happy with the quality of their life it doesn’t neccesarily mean it’s somthing that can be fixed by addressing their mental health. Thats the difficulty that lies ahead. It’s a horrific proposition that society can’t help you with. I always told Anita that she didn’t have any choice about life but she obviously still wanted to exert some control.