Getting better!

I managed to catch a bug on the plane home from our trip to Canberra and Queensland. The flight home was cramped and stuffy - not good. So this week has been brought to you by panadiene (the coedine stops the sniffles), hot showers and general patheticness.  

It wasn't all bad. I did go and see the final installment of the Twilight saga (saga is the most apt description) with my book club gal pals. (I really don't see the attraction, but half of them are crazy for Twilight!) And we went and saw Skyfall last night in the Gold Class (thank you, generous client). It was pretty good. Not great, but that may have been my general malaise, plus the wait staff walking in front during moments of high drama.

However this morning I'm up, have walked the dogs, unpacked suit cases (stuff is all over the bed, but we're making progress), put on washing and am about to put up my Christmas tree.

Yay! I'm getting better.   However I feel guilty celebrating recovery. I read a blog of a woman who lives with what is probably an incurable syndrome, which, along with other nasty things, is slowly robbing her of her quality of life. I admire her fortitude, which she willingly admits deserts her from time to time, so my glee in getting better feels quite churlish. But it's so nice to see the end of feeling blah. However my hubby has just rung to say he's probably coming down with the bug. Oh well.

Wheely good news.

My husband & I went to see my Dad on Sunday afternoon. He recognised me immediately, which is always a good sign! The previous week he'd fallen backwards out of his wheelchair (which shook him up) and so the facility had decided he needed to go into a bigger wheelchair. Why they hadn't made this judgement call earlier is a bit mystifying. I think he had put his feet on the ground and straightened his legs and the wheel brakes weren't on so the wheels slipped and over he went.  One of his little fingers was damaged, but that was it. Fortunately I turned up to visit him and Mum had turned up just after it happened, so he had lots of loving support to help get over the shock.

My mum had described the wheel chair he was now in as one of those padded ones. So I was imagining they'd put him in one of the massive wheel chair/bed contraptions that the severely disabled residents are put. Thankfully that's not the case. He's in a larger, more robust chair and he can't put his feet easily on the floor (and give himself the leverage to tip over).

My husband & I were exclaiming over the wheelchair (you're in the Rolls Royce of wheelchairs, Dad!). When I mentioned he won't fall out of this one he was mystified because he's completely forgotten about his little accident!

We also got his TV working properly - not that he really watches it, but he has laughed when we've watched funny things so it does bring him some pleasure.