Passport photo
I had to get my passport renewed, but these days there are even stricter rules for passport photos; no smiling and a head kept straight. We couldn’t go to some department store photo studio, so we had a photographer come to us. I had to pose in front of a grey background, balanced on my headrest. He would edit the picture later to make it seem like a regular picture. The resulting photograph looks rather desolate. Everything about me is crooked; my head, my ears, my mouth. Moreover, my eyes are half-closed. It looks terrible. It’s a good thing I don’t look in too many mirrors anymore.
Sleeping with a pillow
Multiple people have told me to try sleeping with a pillow between my legs to relieve the strain on my hip. Apparently, it’s a tried and proven method for people who’ve had hip surgery, as well as old folks. It just so happened that my leg was becoming more and more painful, not just my hip, but my knee and my lower leg too. Thus, I started sleeping with a pillow. Every night, the pain became a little less intense until it disappeared completely. It did have one drawback: I couldn’t move my legs, which meant I was having trouble moving my head too, because somehow it seems that my head and legs have a strange connection. Everytime I move my head, my legs move along involuntarily. Having an unmovable head is difficult for me because it prevents me from swallowing. Around five in the morning I was practically drooling because I couldn’t reposition my head. I panicked, so I had to be put in my chair downstairs. Not a fun thing to wake up for Hein. I’ll try alternating for now, some nights with a pillow and some nights without.
Reading
I’ve started reading again, right now I’m in the middle of Lucifer, by Connie Palmen. Usually, I’m fairly quick to skip less meaningful lines in books, but every sentence Palmen wrote seems important, so I can’t skip anything. I liked the book, even though its ending didn’t really grab me like it should have. I immediately started skipping lines again. The whole book is full of Palmen’s personal philosophies. For example, she believes that stories have only really happened if they’re relayed to others. The written or spoken word, according to her, is what give stories colour, personality and nuance. She even claims that people haven’t really lived until they tell others about their lives. It made me think. My writing is proof that I’m still here. If I didn’t, my existence would probably be a lot more passive.
By now, I’ve started reading Boven is alles stil [“It’s all quiet upstairs.” -Ed.] by Gerbrand Bakker, which couldn’t be more different to Palmen’s book. No real personal philosophies to speak of, just a series of realistic descriptions of everyday life and its inherent loneliness. I highly recommend it.
Patient lift
Six years ago, I got my first patient lift. I tried out two different models, one hoist which allowed me to stand up and one with a sling. I hated the second one and immediately pledged to not get a sling lift until it was absolutely necessary. As a result, Hein has to be present anytime the lift is used. Whenever Hein is out of town, I sleep downstairs, but I’ve had trouble sleeping in my chair for a while now. Because of Hein and Ward’s planned hiking trip in two weeks, we decided to finally move my bed downstairs. I’ll have to be put to bed without Hein’s aid, so Lieke and Floor practised with the lift this weekend. On Wednesday, my bed was on the ground floor and the next day Lieke and Floor had a training day. First, they tried with one of them using the lift, but it’s a lot easier to work when the person being lifted is cooperating. My first time in the lift was dreadful, my head kept drooping forward. It went a lot better after I gave them pointers.
The Friday before our training weekend was a bit tumultuous. Floor and Ward had friends over and decided to go out after putting me in bed. I didn’t feel quite comfortable with that, so I decided to sleep in my chair that night. It did motivate me to try sleeping in my bed downstairs on Saturday. One night of bad sleep alleviated my fears of using the patient lift altogether. I slept well, even if it was a bit too hot. In short; mission successful. Hein and Ward can go on holiday without worrying about me.
One unexpected side effect is that we now have a sunroom with a bed and a patient lift, so our house is looking a lot more like a nursing home. Despite the fact that Hein is leaving in less that two weeks, we put the bed upstairs again in the meantime. We’ve already got a living room full of machinery as it is.
Floor
It has to be said, Floor is a key player in me getting in bed using the lift. She’s a great overseer, has an eye for detail and is dextrous, confident and compassionate to boot. I trust her completely. She’s wise beyond her years and has been for a long time. I remember how she first helped me use the lift two years ago and how good she was at it from the get-go, just from watching. People could learn a thing or two from her.
I think those skills came in handy when she did driver’s ed. She got her license in only six weeks, after which she was already able to drive our van all the way to Alphen. After a few weeks, she and Ward wanted to take the van to Amsterdam, without any supervision. We didn’t like the thought of that one bit. She picks up my mother in the van, who was on edge all the way to our house: “A van like this is no car for my little girl,” she probably thought. And when Hein was having bike troubles without bringing a cellphone or a bicycle pump, Floor didn’t hesitate to collect him and his bike in our van. Right now, she’s on holiday with a van full of girls who can’t even drive yet. She’s so adventurous.
Air conditioning
These days I don’t spend a night without the AC on, even though it isn’t even that hot out yet. It’s 21°C inside right now, about three degrees too hot for me too sleep. The AC requires the windows to be closed, which dampens the sounds on the street, so I sleep way better. No more squawking birds at 5 in the morning, no more thunder, no torrential rain and, because of the soft hum of the AC unit, not even my kids coming home late. I’ve been having some great nights of sleep lately. Relatively, of course.
Ward’s 16th birthday
Ward turned sixteen on Thursday, July 5th. I, farsighted as I am, ordered an electrical barbecue, which arrived just in time. It was supposed to be an early father’s day present for Hein. I’d completely planned out the barbecue in my head. My carers helped my put together a shopping list, choosing menus and buying groceries. On the day itself, however, I was resigned to watching the kids put my plan into action. They hadn’t been part of the planning, so they arrived one hour before the party started, thinking they would be done in time. Usually, sloppy planning like that results in a lot of scraps and a refrigerator that’s way too full post-party. Because of that, I hurried them along to get things ready. Even during the barbecue, I was like a hawk. Floor called me a dictator and, really, I can see why. I’ve always had difficulty relegating authority. The barbecue was a great success and the fridge was almost empty by the end of it.
Now that Ward is sixteen, he’s allowed into pubs with his own ID card and no longer has to pretend he’s called Lex or Job to get in. As a parent, I’m supposed to be disapproving of things like that, but I can’t get myself to.