Another Christmas

Rosemarie's chest infection is still there. She has had four different antibiotics of increasing strength - and is on her second course of the last one. She has been in bed for pretty much the whole month, and often she lies there twisted and curled into a foetal position, looking sad and very vulnerable.

But the latest course seems to be making a difference at last and a few days before Christmas she started to become again a little bit more like the Rosemarie we have seen before this recent illness - pulling faces and chatting. This was a great relief because there were mutterings about her having to go into hospital for stronger antibiotics to be delivered intravenously. This was a terrible prospect for all sorts of reasons, and I spent a very nervous couple of days. In the end the doctor just prescribed a stronger dose of the same type of antibiotic.  

Like last year my son and I planned to have Christmas dinner at the Care Home, spend a few hours with Rosemarie and then go on to my daughter's house for the evening. I spoke to the Good Nurse and asked if Rosemarie could be dressed and in her wheelchair for just before lunch. The hope was that she would not tire too quickly and be able to enjoy at least some of the atmosphere.

It was a disaster.

When we arrived she was dressed but still in bed. That was ok because there was still half an hour before the planned start of the meal. We cut it as fine as we could and got her to a small beautifully decorated table in the Afternoon Lounge just when the food was due.

It was half an hour late.

By the time to food arrived she was leaning heavily to one side in the wheelchair, or leaning so far forward her forehead was nearly on the table, or stiffening her body and tilting her head back with her mouth open. We are not talking about lolling: she leans with a strength I never knew she had. It takes all my strength to move her body upright and hold her there. My son and I had to take turns - one holding her while the other tried to feed her. 

She finds it really difficult to eat. She doesn't really chew the food - more a repetitive vertical biting action. Once the flavour is gone she loses interest and just stops, leaving the food in her mouth. She has to be encouraged to swallow, and seems to find it uncomfortable. 

Christmas dinner is about the worst possible meal to give her, in retrospect. Turkey tends to be quite dry at the best of times. Brussels are slightly bitter and I don't know anyone who eats them enthusiastically. Baked potatoes are too crisp for her on the outside and too dry for her on the inside. She tolerated one sprout and allowed two small pieces of turkey in her mouth, and seemed to swallow one. A piece of potato dipped in gravy went into her mouth and came out again almost immediately. She became increasingly distressed and we hastened to get her back to her bed.

This was heartbreaking. Rosemarie has always loved just about everything about Christmas, and now it has almost all been taken away from her. She didn't really respond to the carols I played on the radio, she doesn't register presents, she is barely aware of the decorations I put up in her room (she views them with a kind of quizzical puzzlement and a slight smile) and she got no pleasure at all from Christmas dinner. 

I so wanted it to be different.