The Wood and the Tree

Today is Chinese New Year – of the Wood Dragon – the first time these two symbols of courage and new beginnings have combined since 1964.

Both appropriate as from the start of the western calendar new year I’ve felt deeply challenged, my world imploding at times.

Four weeks ago John began a hospital stay, that I wrote about, but after being discharged his severe back pain and urinary incontinence did not abate. At a GP exam it was suggested he might have a serious condition that could lead to spinal paralysis. I Googled, like you do, decided not to await the urgent referral for MRI, but follow NHS advice and go straight to A&E.

After some initial sceptism that there was anything wrong a CT scan was ordered and it showed John had sustained a recent small spinal fracture, most likely when he fell in early January.

He was so frail that day, clearly distressed at being back in a hospital environment. The only way he would settle was by puffing on his unlit pipe, which the A&E nurses and doctors kindly let pass. Though I did have to confiscate his lighter, one area where H&S really does take priority!

A kind doctor came that evening to tell us John had a fracture and he would happily admit him to a ward for care, as his frailty and issues would be a lot to manage. I considered it for a milli-second, but I knew he would recover more readily in his own space, hence I brought him home.

The next few days were very challenging, as John developed double incontinence day and night, coupled with such muscle weakness it took two of us to hold him up at times. Without a wonderful friend, who is a full-time carer, staying with us I don’t how I’d have coped, also a former ED Nurse who lives nearby helped out and has been a tower of strength.

It was awful to see John at times distressed and looking broken from what was happening to him physically, but he showed amazing resilience, and after each difficult episode once he was back in the comfort of his chair, it was business as usual: “Can you move out of the way, you’re blocking the television. I’d like a glass of wine please. Don’t be long with whatever you’re doing,” all said with such politeness and in typical Johnners style that you couldn’t help but smile and feel relieved he was in his safe space.

In the midst of all this mayhem I managed to mix a set of fibre-filled incontinence pants with the washing, only to find everything covered in white fluff and bung up the filter, not what you need at times like this!

Some of John’s issues were subsequently discovered to be the result of a UTI, and antibiotics prescribed.

By Tuesday as he was thankfully beginning to look better I had a belated meltdown, our lovely Admiral Nurse Liz responded immediately to my email of woe, visited, listened, and made positive things happen like a visit from the Reablement Team and advice about seeking formal domiciliary care.

We’re going to be provided with more mobility aids and medical equipment, including a hospital bed, which I recognise is needed, but feels like another step along the difficult dementia pathway.

The cost of formal regular care is eye-opening, with carefully put aside savings above the government’s £23,000 threshold we’re classed as self-funding. Even with just a two hour a day home visit, the annual costs could exceed £27,000. Ironically the government committed to raising the threshold to £100,000, but because of budgetary pressures it’s delayed until October 2025. By then it won’t matter for us, because we’ll have our own budgetary pressures.

It’s all been so much to take in that last night I called the Samaritans, wonderful non-judgemental people, who by quietly listening help you step back and find perspective.

I woke up this morning feeling a renewed sense of courage and acceptance of change.

An odd coincidence is that this episode with John started at new year soon after a tornado partly felled the large oak tree overlooking our garden. We thought the mighty 200-year-old tree would have to be felled, but in the last two days it has been tightly trimmed.

The deep roots remain, the tree bends more gently with the wind, the removed branches will continue to serve a purpose as useful wood.

On my bedroom floor I have a rug, handmade in the 1930s, by my maternal grandfather. Out of my window a view of the tree remains. This week a friend gave me a carved wooden turtle, as a sign of peace and good luck.

I have a dragon for courage, and in the wood from the tree I can see new beginnings.

As always I write this with the deepest of respect to John and sharing our story that it might help others in similar situations know they are not alone. Thanks as always for reading.

Wishing for all the blessings of a happy Wood Dragon Chinese New Year.