Managing.

Well, I've been unofficially told that I officially have a job to go to in a few days time. Being a canny sort I'm not saying any more until I have the paperwork in my hands.

I do need to get myself ready now though. So I sat down with a cup of soup (tasteless and nasty) and wrote out a list of all the things needing done. I then made a few phone calls and tried to sort out my contact lists and do a general tidy up. The contacts list was certainly clean by the end of it. In the move to group folders I managed to delete a fair number of the entries. Hmph.

Still I think I've recovered most of them and it has given me a nudge to get other bits and bobs on the PC sorted. Far too many images that I'll never look at again. Must rationalise the way I take pics from now on. I suppose I'd like to get better at treating the camera as if it were film based. All too easy to rattle of 24 shots in no time with digital.

Was also taking to the man about what I write in my journal. It's not always easy to strike a balance between what can be put out for public consumption and what has to remain unsaid. Last year's blip was a good example.

During the afternoon social services brought a bath lift to the house. That was really important as the lad wasn't able to manage the stairs safely anymore. The shower downstairs wasn't really suitable either as it was over the bath. So we were all looking forward to the lift making a huge difference.

The initial thoughts were fairly positive, although we didn't really know what to make of the fluid that ran out of the unit when we set it up to begin with. (We were later assured that it was cleaning fluid... with hindsight we are not so sure). It was a struggle, but we got him into the bath and he really enjoyed soaking. A huge smile from ear to ear made it all worthwhile.

At least it was until it was time to get him out. No matter what we did to try and get the power pack to lift the seat it just wouldn't work. So there he was, sat in a bath which he did not have the power in his legs to get out of, surrounded by walls on three sides and his dad and I completely unable to do anything except make him a cup of tea, wrap him him blankets and wait for the community assist team to arrive.

They didn't take long and we were grateful for that, but thanks to some pretty poorly thought through policies, the equipment they had for lifting bariatric patients was totally inadequate. You really cant put an air cushion under a metal frame.

Then someone suggested that we could take the side off the bath and try and put the cushion underneath. Now I'm not quite sure how she thought that was going to work unless the idea had been to lift the bath to an angle, presumably hoping all the time that the pipes wouldn't burst, so that the lad could just step out. Whatever the reasoning was I pointed out that the whole unit was made of cast iron and that it was unlikely to work.

Having discussed all the options, even the whacky ones, the team decided they would have to call in the fire brigade. So, while the man went off to pick up the daughter we had another short wait until the guys arrived. By now the cup of tea was done and the lad was getting pretty fed up with everything. It was almost impossible to tell him what was going on. He had difficulty hearing anything, his vision was poor and even when we used pictorial representations he was struggling to process the information. The only way I could reassure him was through touch.

Then the engine arrived with the blue lights flashing. The whole village was alerted to our plight. As if that wasn't bad enough, seven burly firemen came in through the street door and arranged themselves around the bath by balancing on the edges and through the hall. We all laughed. It was surreal. Almost like we were living through a comedy sketch.

I went and got the towels they needed. The plan was to get them between the lad and the lift so that the guys could raise him out of the bath and onto a strategically positioned chair. There was no room for me anymore. So I waited outside the room while eight people did what needed done.

It wasn't pretty. Long term use of steroids causes osteoporosis and the lad's back took a real bruising. His skin did too. I was glad that we had the foresight to give him some super strength painkillers before the whole thing started.

I think that was the only time I lost my cool and it wasn't good. One of the community alarm team got my feet back on the ground by telling me (albeit in a much more polite way) that I needed to sort myself out. This wasn't about me, it was about the lad. She was right. I went through. The lad was back in bed and smiling. I even heard him saying thank you to the firemen and then laughing. He reckoned his mates would be impressed that it took seven firemen to get him out of the bath!

Why tell you all this now? I wanted to write about it at the time but couldn't. Even although I knew that it was very unlikely that Craig would be able to read any of this because of the communication difficulties, I couldn't take that risk. I also couldn't take the risk that it might upset other relatives and friends. It wasn't because I wanted to protect them per se. It was more about managing the situation at home. It is now time that things that went unsaid are spoken. Today I want to write about this because I can.

PS Please don't feel you have to say anything. There really isn't anything much to say. Ultimately, just writing this was cathartic.