~~
Wednesday 21st 41F. Milder weather is pushing indoor temperatures up. Upstairs 19C/67F, Lounge 17C/63F, Kitchen 14C/57F, Bathroom 10C/50F.
Up at 5.45. The shoulder pain persisted until bedtime. Very unpleasant indeed at times. With the pain travelling down my left arm causing pins and needles.
Lower back pain again this morning. Pins and needles right down my left arm and into my left hand. No loss of sensation or numbness. Just had a nose bleed. I have messaged the doctor to say I have ceased taking the 4mg Doxazosin tablets for my prostate enlargement.
It should remain dry but misty today. So I can bring the last of the logs into the greenhouse. The latter is badly in need of tidying but it has too many close associations with my late wife. She would sew seeds, transfer the seedlings to pots and grow them on out there.
There were always ragged, lightweight, white tarpaulins dangling from the ceiling for summer shade. Making it all but impossible for me to move around out there. The walls were covered in cheap, white shower curtains. It was always full of unused furniture, timber, boxes and trolleys out there. Meaning that the end doors could not even be reached for ventilation.
Outside, were ten feet high walls of hedging and towering conifers. All in the desperate hope of summer shade. Each memory brings pangs of severe regret that I could not overcome her resistance to clearing it all out. There were cane chairs and settees piled up. Which were never used in twenty years. I would suggest I remove them but she would not have it. This was her refuge, in the growing season and I was never welcome out there.
The green shade net came too much late to have any real impact on her comfort. There was the Covid pandemic and fear of infection. My wife referred to Covid as the last straw. She was deeply depressed by that point. Despite this, she insisted on washing the shopping where possible. Or storing it for long enough to reduce the chance of infection. Ironically it was not the virus which killed her. She had flatly refused to have the vaccines because of "side effects."
My blog has become a diary of the trivialities of my everyday existence. This ignores the profound changes which I have made since the death of my wife. Her resistance to anything I suggested still has an affect on many of my present decisions. Old habits are ingrained and die hard. I am torn between necessity and the burning guilt at everything I do.
My wife will never enjoy the improvements in light, comfort, freedom of movement and space I have achieved. Yet it was she who decided, if only by default, that no such changes were made. I feel horribly disloyal to her memory and her wishes as I remove the layers of her own, dreary existence. Which hampers my desire to be rid of much of the clutter. Yet each item, of the thousands, were Her [untouchable] possessions. Even if they were never available for display.
Could I have done more to make her more comfortable in our dark and cold hovel in that last winter? I tried, but my attempts were always rejected. I bought a new wood stove and she would not let me install it. It sat on its pallet for months in the hall. Blocking the way to the kitchen and causing pain! I bought several fan heaters to warm the cold kitchen. She would not use any of them. When I put up a thermometer she would take it down and hide it.
She would shower or bathe in the freezing bathroom. The fan heater[s] unused. Because she didn't like the noise! I suggested she turn the fan off once it was warm in there. But no.
I had to wait for months until she was in hospital. To have the new stove installed by our kind master sweep. My wife was furious when she was propped up in her hospital [death] bed. In the now empty lounge.
I bought her a high quality, warm, down sweater a year earlier. She refused to wear it until the bitter end. I bought several, high quality down duvets to keep her warm in bed. She rejected them all as too heavy. Until she was finally too weak to resist. Yet she complained bitterly about the weight of her own bedding.
Her last winter was spent under an old and heavy, secondhand, feather and down duvet. In the semi-darkness of our annually hot and cold, attic bedroom. Her bedding was bought from a charity shop two decades earlier. There were other, much warmer duvets in her huge stock but she refused use them.
She died under a brand new, super quality, snow white, goose down duvet without a cover. No cover, in case the weight was too much for her. Even the nurses and home helps asked whether it should have a cover. I had to point out that she hated the weight of her bedding pressing down on her. Her wishes were [always] my command.
9.00 I left at nine for a brisk walk to the lanes. Hundred yard/metre patchy mist. The air slightly to cool for comfort on my bare, swinging hands. The prairies and roadside fields had been ploughed. A uniform chocolate brown stretched as far as the mist would allow. I took to the verge whenever a vehicle approached. No point in hampering their journey. The tractor and flail had been along. To scatter the prickly, roadside hedgerows over the entire width of the road. Cyclists beware!
10.00 Morning coffee ritual over. My back pain and pins and needles have subsided for the moment. Time to deal with that remaining firewood. Though there is presently nowhere for it to go. Not unless I pile it up in front of all the lounge windows. So, the utterly pointless furniture and trolleys must finally take a hike!
They owe me nothing. The recycling yard beckons. They have outlasted their purpose as a barricade against normality. They will go outside. Until the trailer is emptied of firewood. Ready to ferry more detritus. From a former life of endless despair. Her life ruined thanks to a lunatic for a mother. For years we were invited over to live with her in Denmark. We were there for a couple of weeks before her mother threw us both out on a Sunday night. With all our furniture and belongings still taking up space. In one of her huge, open barns.
11.30 42F. Still misty. I now have all the firewood in the greenhouse. Today's logs had to be stacked in front of yesterday's. Four trolleys and a metal table have gone out into the trailer. Assorted metalwork for the charity container. I have downsized the wasted space in the greenhouse by about 40%. Lots of useful wood to take to the shed. This will really help to make more room. Then I can get to the picnic table to tidy that. For years it was my wife's work table. When she was busy with her gardening.
12.15. The village, recycling yard has been completely re-arranged in an oval over a larger space. A useful improvement. Previously, the most used containers were all packed together. One slow person and a queue of cars and trailers would form. I had to replace the pilot wheel clamp on my trailer. The screw thread
on the clamping handle had worn out over the years. Now as good as new.
Meanwhile, I had better move the useful wood from the greenhouse to the shed. Before it gets dark or rains. Three wheelbarrows full so far. The shed now needs to be tidied to make room for more wood.
16.00 Already dusk. The kitchen is up to 15C/60F. A fan would speed the transfer of heat.
19.30 Dinner was poached eggs on toast with tomato soup and a bread roll. Phone image by artificial light and resized. The freezer fluctuations in temperature do not give me the confidence to buy any more frozen food at the moment.
~~
No comments:
Post a Comment