A Little Help Please, Santa

I was so tired after my week back at work that I overslept this morning and set off for Mum and Dad's in Tiptree much later than usual.  Once there, I went straight out again to get some shopping for them.  Food shopping, that is, not Christmas shopping.  I still haven't had the time to do any of mine, and unfortunately no-one will be getting a card from me in the post because I missed the Christmas deadline.  I have to take Dad to Colchester Hospital on Monday, so let's hope I can find some gifts to buy on Tuesday while I'm briefly back in my own flat.

Dad is still finding it hard to settle in at home, and is now suffering from anxiety attacks.  It's not surprising really, given all that he has had to endure over the past couple of months - the diagnosis of lung cancer, the loss of his sister Joyce, being in the ward when a fellow patient passed away, sitting up for 24 hours in the chair, the drainage procedures, the long journeys to and from the Royal Brompton, minor surgery at the age of 90, rehabilitation with physios, the enforced separation from Mum, and of course all the pain and sleepless nights.  Now that he is finally home, everything has caught up with him and it's all coming out in the form of feeling tense and worried that he will be okay.  He is aware that this is a problem, for himself and also for Mum, so we will speak to the doctor on Monday and see if there is something which will help him to relax and be less anxious.

I've heard it said that we are not burdened with anything we can't cope with, but sometimes in life it just doesn't seem that way.


PS:  The Santa in my blipfoto was knitted by Mum a few years ago - a lady of many talents.