I drove to Colwyn Bay in bright sunshine. It was glorious. I was due to meet my friend Polly for lunch. The only problem lay in the fact she was in France. I’d written Feb 28th. She’d written March 28th
I sat at a table overlooking sea and had lunch on my own.
It was mindful
I turned off my phone and enjoyed the service, the food and the view
And I was mindful, that my thoughts slowed down and I relaxed
We don’t have time for ourselves in this strange mad little world
Supervision is teaching me the strengths of mindfullness
With the Church, there are now six buildings in this part of the village
It’s a tiny village within a village all told.
I wonder who my new neighbours will be.
Trefor’s house is a 1960s bungalow which wouldn’t look out of place in Stingray or Thunderbirds
It hasn’t been modernised for 60 years so I’m intrigued how it will be changed and if the occupants can cope with the cacophony of yapping dogs next door.
I’ve been counselling all day and said my goodbyes to two of my favourite clients today.
Yes, therapists can have favourites per se…even if objectivity is desired at all times.
We are human, we will do.
I think the therapeutic relationship is a special one. Often clients share things with a therapist that they have never shared with another human being.
That’s a special and moving bond that tie
It’s a privilege.
I got home just as it was getting dark. The sold sign still clear on the telephone pole next to Trevor’s house.
Everything Changes, I thought to myself
Ps there‘s a mouse in the kitchen, I’ve found droppings in my baking cupboard
I was going to post about Robert Flack today but found this wonderful video of Catarina Valente this is only an aside as I wanted to blog about Bun today who has developed into a delightfully affectionate cat.
Last night she spent an age cuddling my bare foot
Every night , she joins me in bed and as I lay on my side, she perches on my hip like a little black limpet .
She is gentle and sweet, and gentle and playful which is a direct opposite to Weaver who remains shy and remote and distant unless she is being fed.
Occasionally Weaver allows me to rub her head until a tiny purr is emitted but that’s only when I am in bed and safely under the duvet, and that contact is limited by her. I don’t push her interaction. I leave it to her, as she reminds me of Albert who limited his contact with me to head bumps.
Both cats don’t go out much. Their cat flat is open during the day, a fact they are fully aware of, but I seldom see them outside but in the evenings , when the fire is lit and the Welsh are huddled on my trendy blue couch with me, they appear around nine pm to cuddle each other in front of the log burner until lights out .
They are what I always suspected they would be
A constant backdrop to cottage life x
This afternoon I’m off to Abergele Hospital which is a tiny orthopaedic based unit in the hills. My friend Ruth has had a total knee replacement and I’m visiting her a day after her surgery .
I’m one of her next of kin contacts which moved me , and I’ve bought her grapes and a good book to read
The cottage cleaning has finished this morning with a spruce up of the patio. I’ve had enough of the work.
And ate it in seconds, with little moans of delight.
Coffee then down to work.
The living room needs a spruce
The sun is shining and the windows are wide open.
The laundry is hanging in the sun by the front door and my T shirts are folded and airing
The cottage smells of clean washing and I am reminded of my grandmother who used to visit the family home on Mondays to do the ironing.
Affable Despot Jason, was out in the. Village as I returned with my coffee. He’s sporting longer hair and looks like a Rock chick. Terry waved as did Mrs Trellis ( hers was a vague wave in response to me tooting her) and the village looks bright and welcoming in the pre spring sun.
I will leave you with another choir, not my lisping Spanish choir but a Welsh one
20 pairs of reading glasses have been found tucked into corners, gathering dust under the bed and lying under the mountain of clothes, heaped in the corner like a mound of elephant dung.
I’ve also washed two dozen old T shirts which now fit me
Weigh in was this morning, I’ve lost another 6 lbs!!!
In Spinal Injury Nursing, you will always have your favourite patients; the admission to a spinal rehab centre lasts for up to and in many cases well beyond 6 months, so there is plenty of opportunity to really get to know your patient and their families so very well.
In general our unit in Sheffield had on average 100 "new" admissions yearly so in my time there I must have seen around 1600 people coming through the doors and into our lives . I can think of ten or so patients that will always linger in my mind. Eve, an affable despot and serial socializer from Nottingham, Richard, a difficult but ever so likable teenage quadraplegic that I used to use many unprofessional type nursing methods on to just to get him to eat; Neil , the charismatic army guy with a big heart and courage to match his many injuries; Hatim the 13 year old boy injured in the Iraq war who finally adopted a Yorkshire accent when he left us and who loved Finlay with a passion; Sue, a brittle and hilarious salt-of-the-earth fitness fanatic from Manchester--The list could go on and on and on. Many of these characters I still keep in touch with, and their life stories after spinal cord injury have been many and indeed varied .
Marinko was one of these people. I first met him when he was admitted to us in the early 1990s after a fall from a ship in Great Yarmouth when he sustained a lower back fracture and total paraplegia. A non English speaker from Croatia, he was a challenge on so many levels to nurse. We had to get students from Sheffield University to act as interpreters ( as I remember,one was not as good as the others and confused the Croatian for pillow with the word for chicken- which in its own way caused much hilarity)
Marinko also had problems with, shall we say , assertive Sheffield women, and had quite an "old fashioned" Eastern European attitude to gender roles, which was a challenge to him and us, as most of his carers were opinionated Yorkshire women. But he was charming and funny and "blossomed" under the intimate and at times unrealistic environment a rehabilitation centre provides and I considered him to be a friend when he left us to be with his family in a tiny village outside the city of Split
The day we said goodbye, he gave me a bunch of flowers,wrapped in brown paper .we shook hands and hugged and he kissed me hard on each cheek and called me “ brother” and I had to bite my lip as he wheeled away to an uncertain future
Over the past 16 years or so, we have always communicated infrequently by letter. His correspondence was always charming and on the surface optimistic, but it did hint at the huge adaptation problem Marinko had with his disability. A few Christmas’ ago, I was surprised not to have seen a card from him, and I was saddened to receive a letter from Marinko's brother a few months after that. In a note that sounded very much like Marinko his brother states simply:-
Dear Mr Gray, I am using this opportunity to inform you that my dear brother and your friend Marinkohas lost a long battle with his disease and passed away on the 29th of December 2007. The funeral was held in the local cemetery on 31st December 2007 I wish also to extend my honest gratitude for all your support,true and sincere friendship you have been providing to Marinko through all these years. Sincerely
