110 Metre Endurance Walking Competition

It’s Duncan here again. I’m sitting here alone in Cumbria – well, alone that is apart from Radia De Longhi, who is nestling between my knees.

You’ll all know that James came out of the Royal London a week ago. Penny and I had about 30 minutes notice of this. We appeared (from Cumbria) at about 1700 hours. James told us “I’m coming out today”. We thought “no, chum, you’re off your trolley”. His nurse then appeared and said “We’re discharging James this evening”. So to our surprise, we found ourselves taking him home (to his flat) at about 1900 hours. James, it transpired was, after all, on his trolley. Although of course, he had to come off it in order to get out.

He’s delighted with this move and it is undoubtedly the best thing for him. His flat offers attractive surroundings and the catering is much better at Flat 11, Victoria Wharf than it was in the Mile End Road.

He’s made great strides with his walking. His 90 year old grandmother, Nana, would have beaten him by a long chalk in a 110 metre endurance walking competition on 23^rd November (James wouldn’t have finished). By 26^th November, however, he was up to 1km, which would have given Nana a run for her money. Things are looking up.

His eyesight is also looking up, so to speak. The wonkiness has reduced and his eyes are becoming more aligned.

Friday was a busy day. Apart from a gruelling walk in the sunshine along a towpath, across a footpath and through a park, he had several visitors – Anna, Michael and a contingent of medical chaps from Tower Hamlets. The latter (Gaby, Susan and Alan) came to do an assessment. This took two hours, most of which was An Inquisition. The objective of the visit was to find out what was necessary to get James back to work. The result was that he will get some help on physio, with his eyesight and some help on return to work skills (managing his programme and that sort of thing). He then demonstrated that he could walk safely up and downstairs, knew that 999 was the right number to ring to get the fire brigade, didn’t know how to turn the water off (I must find out from our plumber how to do this up here in Cumbria) and was able to articulate his goals quite clearly.

The goals are:

· Carry on going out with his girlfriend (whom he described as a superstar)

· Get back to work

· Get running again

Anything that we can do to help in these areas will doubtless be appreciated!

The Gaby/ Susan/ Alan team were extremely impressed with James’ progress. They said that they were astonished that he was recovering as fast as he is – so that’s good news.

Having been fed through a nasal gastric tube for 4weeks with a continuous drip liquid, James’ stomach has shrunk. It hasn’t had to accommodate large sporadic insurance lunches. Until it’s stretched back to normal size, capacity (and so energy intake) is limited, so he’s still inclined to get tired. Several of you have sent very welcome and tasty hampers/ parcels and these will all help. Mental picture – goose, foie gras – I’m sure that you get the general idea.

A couple of other things:

1. Thank you all very much for your continued support, interest and presents.

2. James’ university friend, Raj, is seeking contributions to a birthday present for James (who attained the ripe old age of 28 on Thursday last week). Some of you may have picked this up from an email which came out last week. Raj’s idea is to get James an iPad and load it with some pictures of James. Several of my cynical colleagues thought that this was a scam. Well, it wasn’t. If you would like to support the idea, you can send me a cheque (Duncan Poole, Whinfell Hall, Low Lorton, Cumbria CA13 0RQ), I’ll pay the cheques into my account and then forward the money to Raj for him to bring the idea to fruition. He’ll still need the photos direct. As I said to Raj (post issue of email), I thought that it would be prudent not to buy anything until he had cash in hand - many of you have been very generous already with time, accommodation, food, flowers etc.

James will have a go at the next bulletin – he’s keeping a diary, which rivals that of other diarist greats like Samuel Pepys and Bridget Jones.

Cheerio to you all for now,

With love from Penny, Bean & James and Alasdair in London,

And me (in chilly Cumbrian isolation – Radia De Longhi is an oil filled radiator, by the way, and not much of a substitute for Penny),

Duncan

29^th November 2010.

'Home Sweet Home'

Hello everyone – Penny here this time!

Duncan and I arrived in London yesterday afternoon, expecting James’s discharge from The Royal London Hospital to be imminent. And how. Within 45 minutes we’d had briefings from a selection of medical, nursing and rehab professionals, pocketed the paperwork, gathered together the boy’s belongings and eased our way (oh so gently) into a taxi. Whitechapel Road mid-rush hour is a bit of a shock to the senses for Cumbrian country bumpkins like us – so imagine how James must have felt. However, this was nothing compared to the exhilaration (and emotion) of stepping inside his flat, the first time for more than five weeks.

Enough excitement for one afternoon. James was soon ready to show off a skill he’s rapidly perfecting – the power nap. It’s a nifty trick, strongly recommended by early morning TV presenters and neuropsychologists alike. Why not give it a try?

By mid evening, James and Bean were finally able to enjoy a bit of peace, quiet, pasta and garlic bread a deux (other members of the extended Team Poole maintaining a discreet distance – i.e. downstairs).

The morning after the night before and James still can’t quite believe his luck – or that he’s really home (and not being constantly interrupted by necessary but tedious hospital routines). A leisurely shower and breakfast were enough to prompt a brief siesta – good work! We’re planning a little bit of fresh air mid afternoon, but will see how things go. Doubtless he’ll want to listen to The Archers first!

He's Mending

Yesterday was the end of week 5 since James’ fall to earth. Today is the beginning of week six. In the last 36 days, he has managed to break some dozen or so bones in his body, most in more than one place, damage his brain (“severely” although we’ll come back to that) and do something or other to his right eye. all of these injuries seem (to us) to be mending extremely quickly, indeed the Royal London Hospital have it in mind to discharge him into the bosom of his family (and, of course, St Bean is an integral part of both the bosom and the family in question, do try to keep abreast of the metaphor) in the next few days.

Newcastle General Hospital did an absolutely fantastic job. He was discharged from NGH on Saturday 13 November and the hospital, doubtless exhausted by the effort of having to deal with James, has now closed. Should anybody be inclined to have an accident paragliding off Carrock Fell despite reading these reports, they will find henceforward themselves whisked to the Royal Victoria Infirmary instead. I’m not sure that James really enjoyed his stay at the NGH but they certainly did him proud. When he was there his grasp on reality was gradually tightening, he came to realise that:

• he wasn’t in a hotel,
• the not-hotel , i.e. the hospital, was in neither Seaford nor Scarborough and
• the prime minister was Cameron (not, thank heaven) Blair or Brown

He did perceptively remark on the number of Geordies among the staff. Anyway, last Saturday an NHS ambulance and two nurse drivers “repatriated” him safely to Mile End Road, London E1. I hadn’t hitherto regarded London as a being in a country distinct from NuT, but maybe the Geordies have that view of the world.

I was somewhat surprised to find out that the nurse/drivers were apparently brothers. Of an age (mid 50s – a very good vintage), Tommy and Dave didn’t look at all like brothers. Very different build (although both Geordies), their common surname was Pts. I remarked on the fact that they didn’t look like brothers and how did one pronounce the unusual name or was it an abbreviation, perhaps for Potts? A slightly tense pause ensued, there was a bit of eye ball swivelling (with the benefit of hindsight, this was probably their reflex action in search of a straitjacket) and then the reply came that PTS stood for Passenger Transport Services and wasn’t a surname at all (and that they weren’t brothers).

On the medical front, the view is that the Royal London can’t do much more for The Boy. He’s mending very well. He will have an ophthalmological appointment in 3-4 weeks time – the delay being to allow Mother Nature to carry on doing her bit. His consultant neuropsychologist says that there’s no concern about his physical recovery and his life expectancy is unimpaired. The eyesight is manageable. Even if Mother Nature can’t quite get things back to what they were pre-crash, he can wear glasses.

The brain injury? Well, it is “severe”. Now, of course, I have absolutely no professional experience of brain injuries and a lot of my friends and family would unkindly say that I have little experience of a brain either, but if his injury is severe, there must be some pretty extreme words further down the spectrum to describe worse injuries. The James Poole that we have today is pretty compos mentis: he is a bit vague when he gets tired, but vegetable he isn’t. Yesterday when I was telling him about a drain clearing exercise that I had been undertaking round the back of the house (in Lorton), he could clearly picture the drains and their covering grates (which for some reason don’t keep the leaves out). He recognises all of his visitors and connects them with their lives/ interests/ jobs. He enjoys the Home Service on the wireless (bit of an improvement on Five Live). We have to look out for anxiety, boredom and depression and will need to make sure that he doesn’t get overstimulated. He cannot be relied upon to look after himself yet - he’ll need somebody to keep an eye on him when he’s in his flat (but he is way past the level where he would benefit from day care at Homerton Rehab Clinic).

In terms of return to work, we’ll have to wait and see: James would like to get back to work, but the consultant said that this should be on a phased basis. The consultant’s opinion (not quite sure what this is based on) was that James has a high octane job and that this wasn’t the same as being a roadsweeper (indeed were James a roadsweeper, he could go back to work as soon as he has built up more muscle tone). I thought that this was interesting: most of my colleagues think that work in the insurance industry consists entirely of large lunches (planning, eating, drinking, digesting, getting somebody else to pay the bill). Since I’m the only insurance professional that most of them have met/ know (in my singleton capacity at the Nuclear Decommissioning Authority), I’m mystified as to the origin of this misapprehension.

The consultant did say that James’ employers shouldn’t concentrate purely on the physical side and that we would all need to watch out for the recovery of his high level cognitive abilities (planning, problem solving, multi-tasking etc). Encouragingly, the consultant said that there are lots of coping strategies, many including what he called cheating with a Blackberry. This is probably an area where James has no little experience already.

Penny and I go back to London tomorrow morning. She will stay in London for the week, I’m going to Bristol and Berkeley Tuesday-Thursday and then back to London for Friday. During this coming week we expect to see James back in his flat. We don’t know yet what we are supposed to do with him. Gently increasing physical activity and games are what we think is appropriate, along with some looking after of himself, making cups of tea for his carers and visitors, a bit of light shopping and interaction with the natives of Bethnal Green. We have to get some instructions/ guidance from the pros.

Reports back from Bean, James and Alasdair this evening:

Bean is at Nando’s buying spicy chicken fajitas to augment the Royal London’s cuisine. She has been busy moving sofa beds around the Home Counties this weekend and, of course and blessedly, loyally and lovingly looking after her inamorato.
James has had a raft of visitors over the weekend from school and work.
Alasdair is with James as I bidigtally peck at the keyboard


Many thanks for all of the marvellous continued help and support. I’ve been fed and watered by Cumbrians this past week, taken to an Anniversary of Flood presentation arranged under the auspices of the Institution of Civil Engineers and delivered by Cockermouth Mountain Rescue (mercifully long on civility and short on engineering), and this weekend Penny and I have been looked after by our many friends up here – entertained to tea, dinner, elevenses, lunch and tea. I’m not sure that we’ve been able to reciprocate very adequately – our conversation has been dominated by ribs, clavicles, interpedunculate cisterns, oculomotor nerves, skulls and neuropsychologists, which must be a bit dull. James has had lots of visitors and there are more in the pipeline. James joins Penny, Bean, Alasdair and me in saying that your interest and continued support mean an enormous amount to us. Muchos gracias! (Incidentally James asked his consultant about whether his ability to speak Spanish would be impaired. The consultant said no, foreign languages are at a “low level”. I’ve got reservations about James’ ability in this area anyway: Penny, Alasdair and I have not forgotten the occasion in Vittoria when we were confronted by James Poole procured tapas which included some deep-fried cartilaginous material – yes, you could say that he had made a pig’s ear of ordering – it certainly wasn’t a silk purse).

Adios amigos!

With love from us all

Duncan

P.S.: I hope that this bulletin is OK. I was mildly admonished for a couple of remarks in the last bulletin. One related to James and his bed, but in this respect everything is fine. The other related to the light over the dining room table – the expression “recreation”, of course, referred to snooker - nothing else.

After 57 years, 9 months and 4 days, I have come to accept such criticism philosophically.

I imagine that England’s other great men of letters have had to put up with this sort of thing too.

Dorothy: William, don’t you think that “host of golden daffodils” would scan rather better than “crowd of yellow flowers of the genus Narcissus”
Anne: William, that bit at the beginning of Romeo and Juliet about mistress’s circle is a bit risqué, dear
And so on!

D

Visiting James

Hello,

This is Alasdair, James' brother and temporary P.A.

I have set up an email account to help organise James's time. Using Google calendars, Beanie and I will do our best to enable all those who have expressed an interest in visiting James to do so. When James is ready to organise visits himself he can then take over this email account and fire me!

James transferred from Newcastle to London on Saturday and is now in Ward AW4 at the Royal London Hospital, Whitechapel Road. His short term memory is a little hazy, so he’s forgotten some of the visits to Newcastle made by friends and family. He’s very apologetic about this, but now much better at remembering things. Understandably, he needs lots of sleep – but when he’s awake he’s alert, talkative and responsive.

Visitors are very important at this point in the recovery process and Team Poole would like to open the proverbial doors. To help structure James's day we’d like to suggest that if you want to visit James you book a slot. Visiting times for AW4 are between 2.30pm and 7.30pm and we have been suggested twenty minute slots. This timing should be strictly adhered to as we have been advised by the medics that frequent rest periods are crucial to James's recovery. We mustn’t wear him out. As time goes by, you will be able to visit him more frequently and for longer periods of time.

To book a slot, just reply to this email address and we will book you in for a visit. Alternatively, contact me on:

Alasdair: 07859 024750

or Beanie: 07740 576182

We will confirm your visit by email, text or carrier pigeon as soon as possible.

Weekends are going to be very busy. Please bear in mind that those coming from further afield may only be able to visit at the weekend.

I will regularly send out a spreadsheet showing James's availability.

With love and thanks

Team Poole
wwwjdp251182.blogspot.com/

"Game on, frankly!"

Team Poole has flown South!

Newcastle did us proud, and in some ways we were rather sad to leave. I’ve lost count of the number of people who lavished their medical/nursing/domestic/motivational/love bombing/mucking out skills on James – a very big thank-you to every single one of you.

Tommy and David were Saturday’s ambulance transfer crew for the road trip to London. With a cheerful “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to ....” (or the Geordie equivalent) they hit the road at 10.00am, delivering their precious bundle to Ward AW4 at The Royal London, Whitechapel Road (and into the arms of J’s beloved Bean) just over five hours later. Duncan and I collected our belongings from Simon & Pauline’s flat in Newcastle (for which, once again, many thanks!) and beetled down the A1, heading for James’s flat in Mile End, just over a mile from the hospital.

The rest of the week-end was pretty sociable for everyone and James happily received several visitors, took in multiple siestas and got acquainted with his new surroundings. The prospect of a Nando’s Mexican takeway (conveniently located just across the road from the hospital) is definitely pepping him up – as will the hot chilli sauce he says he wants liberally doused on the chicken wrap at the top of his snack wish list!

It really is the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness here in London. I went out for a jog along the Regent’s Canal towpath and round Victoria Park this morning and got a real endorphin hit from the autumn colours and hazy sunshine. OK, I also stopped off at a rather chi chi cafe in London Fields for a hyper strong coffee and two thick slices of liberally buttered and jammed toast – thus completely cancelling out the benefits of the exercise, but hey .....

James is in line for a medical assessment today – and his new physio regime should also kick in (quite literally, as football seems to be part of the deal). The whole ‘rehab’ scene is a bit of an unknown quantity for Team Poole, but to quote James from the end of last week: “Game on, frankly!”

We’ll let you know how things go!

Penny X

Carboloading in Anticipation

Hello everyone

A super speedy update this time, as I'm hotdesking!

We've heard this afternoon that James's transfer to The Royal London Hospital in Whitechapel is planned for this coming Friday, 12 November. He's over the moon about his 'upgrade' and thanks EVERYONE who has helped him get to this next stage. The journey will be tiring, but James is already carboloading in anticipation!

Tomorrow we're off to the Royal Victoria Infirmary, in Newcastle city centre, for an ophthalmological assessment. The effort that is going into planning the logistics of this particular exercise are impressive - and the experience means that we'll be fully fired up and ready for the marathon ahead.

More anon - and next time, I'll wax a bit more lyrical!!

Penny X

Good Manners

Duncan here.

Penny has been on duty this week. Alasdair went down to London on Wednesday 27 October, Bean went off to win (as predicted in bulletin last week - come to me for racing tips in future) 5 medals (G, 2S, 2B) and to set a new European record for the ladies 25-29 4X100m freestyle relay in Sheffield before driving back to London. I hitched a lift off Sister Alison and Brother in Law Colin ending up in James’ flat for a couple of nights last Saturday and Sunday.

Team Poole has now reconvened for the weekend of 6 and 7 November in Newcastle – and it’s rather fun to be back together again. This past week, Penny has been updating you all – my take on the week is as follows.

On Monday, Bean and I dropped in on Willis (James’ employers), where we received a very kind, sympathetic and courteous reception from Graham Knight and J’s team. We handed over sick note no.1. Graham gave me a cryptic message to deliver to James, which I duly did by phone and with Brother Nigel acting as an intermediary. This provoked an immediate and positive response from The Boy – recognition.

I went over on Tuesday for the evening to NuT and had a bit of a chat with him. Tracy day (see PJP’s bulletins no.)

Wednesday was a great day, he ate some Shredded Wheat, had a chat with a Polish nurse about Poland and was able to tell his mother the frequency of Radio 1. (Truth to tell, I was a bit disappointed, I would have hoped for the frequency of the Home Programme or the Third Programme or at least Classic FM. While we are on the subject of the Home Service, what a relief to have a journalist free day on Friday when they went on strike – perhaps the BBC should get rid of them altogether?).

On Thursday, Bean’s view was that he was making sense for 70-80% of the time. The rest of the time he was off with the cuckoos. This seems a bit of an improvement on his pre-accident state. He was also having to draw objects and he had a bit of an eye check (from his occupational therapist) – he’ll need a bit more help in this area.

Friday saw an improvement in his drawing abilities, more speaking, some walking.

Today, he’s better still.

So, to summarise:

Physically – mending very well. His surgical slices and sutures are super-healing. He has a scar on the left side of his face on the jaw line, several scars on the front of his chest where the surgeons ‘went in’ to do his ribs and a 12” scar which curves below his left shoulder blade (also rib plating related). This makes it look as if he’s been bitten by a great white shark. The eyes – well we’ll see and so, doubtless, does he – he’s sporting a saucy, rakish and piratical eye patch at the moment to manage his double vision.

Emotionally – seems pretty stable. He’s frightfully lovey-dovey with Bean, filially affectionate to Penny and does manly hand shakes (not hugs) with his male visitors(including Alasdair and me).

Mentally – as you would expect, we are anxious about this. He seems to have become extremely polite. I remarked on this to Bean, who said that he always is.

Well, if so, it’s a characteristic which he’s managed to conceal pretty well from me for the last 27 years and 346 days. I mentioned this to Brother Nigel this morning: he was able to:

a)reassure me and
b)startled me with his worldly cynicism (not a trait that one associates with BN).

Nigel said that he’s bound to be feeling vulnerable at the moment and the best way to get looked after well is to be polite. He also realises that he’ll need a bit of help in the future and so he’s banking on good manners to secure future service. That’s a relief – I thought that we were seeing personality change.

On the mental front, we’ve been visiting the Headway website (charity, www.headway.org). I’m sorry to say that this doesn’t paint an encouraging picture at all – in short, bad news, I’m afraid. Headway has a comprehensive site and one of the sections deals with the ‘Emotional & Behavioural Effects of Brain Injury’. I screwed up my courage and visited this page. There are 11 distinct traits to look out for:

1. Agitation
2. Explosive anger and irritability
3. Lack of awareness and insight
4. Impulsivity and disinhibition
5. Emotional lability (means laughs and cries easily)
6. Apathy and poor motivation
7. Depression
8. Anxiety
9. Inflexibility and obsessionality
10. Sexual problems
11. Self centredness

It’s pretty clear that all of these are conspicous – we are clearly dealing with a text book situation . I’ll give you examples of all of these, just to get the message home.

1. Especially when making scrambled egg.
2. Yes, presents with this when required to do DIY
3. Yes, ask Penny and Alasdair for examples
4. Well documented evidence of this over the past 3 weeks
5. Also lots of laughs, tears in the last 3 weeks
6. Ask previous work colleagues
7. Ditto
8. Eternal pension funding angst
9. Performance of pension fund
10. Well, we’ve had to change the light fitting in the dining room to accommodate our “recreational activities” recently
11. Note that the last few paragraphs apply to the author not to James at all.

Yes, I’m afraid, dear reader, that I must have had a trauma induced brain injury in the past. I can’t actually remember when this was, but then I wouldn’t be able to, would I? That’s the sneaky thing, which probably proves it beyond all doubt. I do remember modifying the angle of my nose when I rear-ended my brother’s toboggan in 1962 – perhaps we can trace the brain injury to the same event? Anyway, given that I’ve managed to cope with brain injury for the last 48 years, had a moderately successful (interesting too) career, a happy marriage and produced a couple of fine lads, I can’t see that James will have any problem bouncing back.

Other news:

It’s a shame that that German fellow (derivation from the Arabic for peasant – fella, if you are interested) has gone back to No 1 St Peter’s Square, The Vatican. A chat with him might have helped. I want to nominate Bean for a sainthood.

This isn’t something that I know much about (along with pretty much everything else under the sun, as you’ll have realised by now). I discussed it with her and she seemed to be up for it. I said that she would have to be St Bean of something and she thought that Fenham (where the hospital is in NuT) would be good. I suggested that perhaps she could also take on insurance brokers and paragliders – she was “cool with this” too. Bean reckoned that there might be a few problems at the moment, what with spending cuts and all, although perhaps there are non-stipendiary saints?

On mature consideration (apart from not really knowing how to go about it – vague recollection of a book by Morris West) since being a saint might rule out certain activities (it undoubtedly would rule out what Jas was suggesting on Tuesday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night), I think that I’ll leave it for a bit. However, she definitely deserves to be canonised.

Bean went to the Royal Geographical Society on Tuesday night, met Michael Palin and he very kindly recorded a get well message for Jas on Bean’s I Phone. Alasdair is researching how to post this on the blog. Bean didn’t buy his book but did buy a map of Orissa, which Michael Palin autographed for her.

This afternoon, Rachel Hawes, the anaesthetist on the Great North Air Ambulance helicopter which rescued Jas, metaphorically dropped in to see him. She said that he had crashed to earth half way up Carrock Fell in a place where a helicopter couldn’t land. The solution had been for her to knock him out, for him to be loaded onto a sled by the Keswick Mountain Rescue and then the sled was slid/ carried to the bottom of the hill, whence the helicopter whisked him to NGH A&E (at 190 mph). The rescue took about 2 hours. We’ll do some digging on this in the next few weeks. Now that I don’t weep so much (obviously becoming less emotionally labile), I can cope with this. James has decided to provide some publicity for the GNAA and KMR by way of a thank you. (Since loads of people have written to us offering support, I’ll set up something to enable donations to be made in recognition of the help provided to JDP, should anybody wish to say “thank you” in this form. Penny and I and the Poole Siblings all intend to do this).

The mother (Sarah) of a girl (Becky) who was briefly on the same ward as Jas went to a school in Whitby which was run by the order of sisters who organised some prayers for James – see bulletin 1. A celebratory visit to Whitby is planned when the patients are better.

Once again, many thanks to you all for visits, support, emails, flowers, wine, lifts, meals, accommodation, book suggestions (On The Edge, by Richard & Mindy Hammond) and kindness – you are a marvellous bunch of friends! This is something of a life-changing event for us.

With best wishes

Team Poole

'Hospital issue' chocolate cake

Bulletin 6 2 November 2010

So, farewell Tracy (in case you need reminding, this is I-Phone predictive text for ‘Goodbye Tracheostomy’). We welcomed you with open arms, but to be quite honest, you became a bit of a pain in the neck. Gone, but not forgotten.

Today has been incredible. Around mid-morning, a multi-disciplinary team meeting convened around J’s bed. I sat in the ward dayroom, twiddling my thumbs. J’s Uncle Nigel and Auntie Ali nipped off for a late breakfast at their hotel around the corner, having done the early shift while I sorted out my poorly Polo (more of that later). Walking back to the Neuroscience Unit at the hospital, Nigel and Ali spotted a magnificent rainbow, photographed it and texted the picture to me. An omen? Not half.

Within the hour, Tracy was consigned to the hazardous waste receptacle – thanks to the gentle ministrations of delightful outreach team member Ingrid.

Next to arrive were the physio team. Knock ME down with a feather if they didn’t get James out of bed, onto his feet and ‘walked him’ a good distance down the corridor, womanfully supporting him under his armpits - with various bits of (dangly) medical paraphernalia adding to the spectacle.

Back to bed for James, a short rest and then enter Helen, the wonderful rehab supremo. Calmly and reassuringly, she offered James some information about the ‘status quo’ and asked him a few questions, prompting quiet but remarkably accurate responses. One question went like this: “Have you got a significant other, James?” “Yes,” he said. What followed was clear and insistent: “Victoria” (aka Bean, as you’ll know).

Another quiet interlude and next on the scene was Holly, the Speech Language Therapist. Working gently and methodically, Holly explained that she wanted to know how well James could swallow, following Tracy’s departure. First he managed half a teaspoon of water, then a bit more. This was followed by a main course of peach yoghurt, rounded off – unbelievably for someone who’s been on naso-gastric tube administered Osmolite for more than a fortnight – with a morsel of quite dry ‘hospital issue’ chocolate cake. Not for the first time during this saga, I was utterly speechless. And J’s effort throughout the proceedings brought beads of sweat to his brow and tears to EVERYONE’s eyes!

I’ve come back to our lovely borrowed flat for some supper – expertly prepared from a rather random selection of ingredients (sorry, Nigella – but thanks, Alison!) by Duncan (hot foot from West Cumbria) and Diana (D’s second cousin, who has flown in, courtesy of KLM, from the South of France today).

Thanks everyone – your thoughts, prayers and good wishes are doing the boy (and us) a power of good!

Penny X

P.S. Bet you weren’t expecting a commercial break for Kwik Fit, were you? Yesterday, just when I thought that nothing else could possibly go wrong, my car sighed and expired. Luckily (we seem to have shedloads of the stuff) this happened in the car park just outside our borrowed flat. Right next door, you guessed it, there’s a branch of Kwik Fit. I arrived just as the manager was closing up for the day and explained my plight. A true gentleman, he cheerfully agreed to sort out the car this morning and even offered to drive me back to the hospital if the taxi he’d ordered for me didn’t arrive “within 5 minutes”. The Polo is now back in action (something mysterious to do with the throttle – Tracy, were you having a laugh?) So next time your vehicle is on the blink, please head straight for Kwik Fit!

Farewell Tracheostomy

01/11/10

Hello everyone – Penny here (currently brow mopper-in-chief)

Apologies for the businesslike bullets that follow, but it’s been a hectic day here at mission control and I could do with a dollop of beauty sleep.

Since Duncan’s last bulletin, James has:

• Cooperated, more or less, with an impressive number of medical interventions
• Greeted his Uncle Nigel & Auntie Ali with a beaming smile
• Blown kisses down a mobile phone to Bean (aaaahhs from everyone present)
• Tolerated the Archers Omnibus on the radio, just to keep me sweet (OK, he didn’t actually have much choice in the matter!)
• Responded with a wry grin to some darts-related banter from his mate Brett (aka Crazy Horse) – though what he wanted to say is probably unrepeatable anyway.

Tomorrow promises plenty more action, so depending on your preferred method, please direct your thoughts/prayers/wishes on a star to James’s next milestone .....

‘GOODBYE TRACY’ (my I-Phone’s ‘predictive’ alternative for ‘FAREWELL TRACHEOSTOMY!’)

Thanks for your continuing support: cards, phone messages, emails, visits and efforts to re-re-adjust my waistline!

Penny X