Visited Daisy in hospital this afternoon with Mr Mediator and Dr Feline. Daisy is doing a lot better. I haven’t seen her (except yesterday when I happened – completely incidentally – to be at the same time having a spinal X-ray, long story, turned out no fracture; anyway, she was completely fast asleep, so it hardly counts) but the stories from Mr Mediator haven’t been great, although it was also clear she was improving.
Miraculously so this afternoon! Apparently, she was so much better even than just this morning. Her speech was slurred but completely understandable, she can use both sides of her body (but can’t see things to the left of her), her swallowing seems to be coming back, and she walked (with a walker) right up to the end of her bay and back, and sat down on her own! So, good news all round. Hopefully she’ll be able to go ‘home’ (weird saying that about a residential place) next week, early. It’s just the eating part that isn’t coming back as fast. She’s on 8tsp pureed food 3 times a day. She says she’s hungry, and also said she’s bored particularly because she’s ‘waiting around for nothing to happen.’
God, do I know how that feels.
But it’s all good news.
So, as I write now there are only twenty three minutes left of my twenty fifth birthday. I know that I was the one who asked not to celebrate it, but it still feels sad. Alison and Joe made a tiny mug cake for them to share as a sort of pretend celebration but it all just seemed pathetic. I had a couple of presents from people who obviously hadn’t got the message that I wasn’t celebrating this year.
It was an odd day. Anniversaries are odd things. Every year you whizz past the anniversary of your death, and you don’t know it. But birthdays mean things to people. And this one particularly meant something for me. Also, BIRTHdays are big things for parents, particularly mothers, right? I mean twenty-five years ago, Dr Feline squeezed me out of her vagina (OUCH) and Mr M became a dad for the second time. So I deprived them the time for their anniversary too.
It’s been a weird day. A very empty, bitty, nothing-ish day. I didn’t really do… well, anything. My brother rang me this evening, which is very rare. Nice and very thoughtful of him, but I know he can’t like me as a sister. Who would?
Seventeen minutes to go.
I wish I could be the sister he wants, and the daughter my parents want. But then I couldn’t be the person that I want. Am I just being ultra selfish? I don’t know.
Oh, do you want to know something ironic? I’m writing a novel about a girl with an eating disorder (it IS fiction, not me, not my life story), and I was sitting at my computer writing this evening and I was writing about her birthday. I wrote about her birthday on my birthday. Eating disorders make up my whole world.
Fifteen minutes left.
Happy Birthday to Me,
Happy Birthday to Me,
Happy Birthday Dear Me-e,
Happy Birthday to Me.