Lately weekends are just a trial and emphasise the crapness of this disease and life in general. On Saturday he wanted to go to the garage where he keeps his Morris Minor and do a little work on it. So he got up, washed and dressed - and that's a chore in itself. It's difficult putting the support stockings on over his swollen leg and both feet. Then he wanted to put his boots on. Tugging, pulling, pushing and squeezing together we managed it and then I laced them really loosely. He went dsownstairs and reheated some soup that he'd made on Friday and as he sat down to eat it he admitted he was too exhausted to go.
I'd known this would be the case but didn't want to be the one to say so had just helped him get ready but it was heartbreaking to see how upset he was. Fortunatley while he was eating the soup up I'd managed to strip off the bed and remake it so I helped him poff with his boots then got him back to bed. And that was it for the rest of the day. He was in a lot of pain and kept wanting oramorph. At one point I thought he was crying but he said nothing so I didn't push it.
On Sunday the pain continued so we upped his MST to 60mg twice daily. I told the PC nurse today and she said I'd done the right thing but upped it another 10mg so he's now on 70mg a day. Last night he woke up in pain and I'd been having a little cry and we managed to talk openly about t for the first time. He admitted he was scared and later admitted he was terrified of dying. It's hard to know what to say. We'd been to my parent's for dinner earlier which was a tremendous effort for him but I think he was hugely proud that he'd done it. My dad offered help with the gas bill which touched Toni immensely as he hasn't had any offers like that from his own family. They just cause us problems, inclusing standing at the front door having a fag and letting all the ehat out!!
Anyway I feel we've turned a corner by getting some of our fears and feelings into the open. He's sleeping now which seems the routine.
