Very Unreal

Llancloudy - Tuesday.

The stairlift man suggests two options - a swivel chair and a perching stool - 

 as our stairs are quite narrow and Robin is  6' 2. He's on his way to Wales for the weekend so I say I'll get in touch next week.

The phone rings. It's the man with the hospital bed. He asks when I want it delivered. I panic as I haven't made room for it and ask him to hold on to it till I've sorted out the spare room. Our friend MC says get it all done as soon as possible. It  feels very unreal.

Robin goes out with lovely friend this morning and with lovely brother-in-law this afternoon. Lovely PA comes to sort out the new phones and arranges for a cleaner  to start in May.  Then she makes the shower and the bathroom sparkling clean.

 I  write an email to the consultant neurologist we are seeing on Monday. I read reams of stuff about MND on the internet. Then I catch up on an episode of Indian Summers on Iplayer. A stolen hour in the afternoon.  It feels very unreal.

Robin has just come to tell me that I left the back door open and he can't lock it. He's very out of breath. I try and imagine him strapped into the chair of a stairlift in our house. Very unreal.