Cheese and ham chicken, stuffed pepper, Mediterranean veg, garlic bread

For the second day of Advent my true love gave to me, bathroom pipes that run freely!

Well, not so much “my true love” as Jamie from RenoDrain, who did his usual efficient job of sorting things so I can now have a shower without going paddling at the same time. Thanks, Jamie – much appreciated!

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With the anniversary of my return home from rehab fast approaching, I have unsurprisingly been thinking a lot about how things have changed over the past year.

When I first came home, mum was so confused that she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t watch Strictly now: she could see it written down in her listings magazine, and couldn’t grasp the concept of the magazine containing details of programming for multiple days.

Our Christmas dinner was whatever I could find that could be ordered and delivered with less than a week’s notice. I will always be grateful to Iceland for continuing their next day delivery in the run-up to Christmas, thus ensuring we had food to eat, and festive food at that.

Not that mum really understood that it was Christmas: it was only when I gave her her present that she asked “is it Christmas today?” Then she got quite upset that she hadn’t bought a present for me, no matter how many times I reassured her that I hadn’t expected her to buy me a present.

This year I will get a present, although I’m going to have to buy it myself. I’m thinking maybe a nice towelling dressing gown to wear after showering, as I find drying myself with a flat towel something of a challenge.

(Mum’s getting a new pair of pyjamas and a bee house for the garden, for the record.)

Compared to last year I can move more easily and am experiencing less pain, but I am still mostly housebound and it’s going to be a long time before that changes, I fear.

We also now have less help than we had last year, although that help wasn’t exactly helpful so that’s no great loss. Where I now need help is not with practical stuff but with keeping mum occupied so her anxiety doesn’t get away from her.

Which, coming back to the present day, has been the theme for today: every time I managed to ease mum’s anxiety on one topic, another one sprang up to take its place. It was like playing the world’s most frustrating game of whack-a-mole. I am genuinely proud of myself that I only lost my patience once, when I was trying to get mum to take some deep breaths to manage an anxiety attack and she flat-out refused, just totally ignoring what I was saying. I gave up and walked out of the room, and that proved to be the right move as mum was upset that she’d upset me and decided to make an effort to get up instead of lying in bed worrying herself into an ever-worse mental state.

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For dinner I did my usual “throw it on a baking tray” meal that I do on days when I really cba, including half a stuffed pepper and a garlic bread baguette that needed using. Mum served herself and took her meal into the other room, then decided she didn’t want her fourth slice of garlic bread and gave it to me. Then she decided she didn’t want her third slice, and gave that to me. Then… OK, I ate the whole thing. 😳

I do love garlic bread. 🤭

Now I need to finish this post (obviously), then go and seal up the box I got from Amazon today and am sending straight back as I didn’t check the size of the freezer boxes I ordered and they won’t fit in our freezer. 🤦‍♂️ Then I’ll sit and reassure mum a few hundred more times that it will all be fine and she just needs to remember to breathe.

I’ll get that darn mole eventually.