Tuesday, 22 February 2011

I like

Talking to a Friend when she's punch-drunk after a long night shift.

The smell of another sourdough loaf, steaming gently in the kitchen.

Mog using her talking book to tell me she is bored.

The fact that hoisting Little Fish is apparently so exciting she is now nagging me to do her personal care every ninety minutes rather than running away every three hours.

That, when I ask LF what she wants to do today, she tells me she needs to make chocolate pudding cake. And, when I asked her what she wanted to do yesterday, she told me she needed to make chocolate pudding cake. And, both times, once we had made them, she refused to eat them and insisted I did.

That Mog's idea of high excitement is going to post a letter, and that she has decided she wants to buy new stories tomorrow. Not new clothes (think that's very nearly a first).

Radio 4 on a wet afternoon.

Not having carpets so spilled drinks aren't quite as rage inducing as they might otherwise be.

Police who turned up today and put warning notices on all the cars parked illegally blocking access to our cul de sac.

Having carers, one of whom will turn up shortly to put Mog to bed.

That, although LF is not happy about her bed's new position (we have had to rotate it 90 degrees so it is now under the hoist), she is settling to sleep faster than ever and comforted by the family photos stitched to her quilt.

That, in addition to being hoistable-from, LF's new bed position means I can now turn on the kitchen light without waking her up in the night.

That we have overhead tracking where we need it, slings which fit the girls, and time to use them.

Friend is coming to visit over the weekend.

The cats have agreed to eat their new super-duper-mightily-expensive cat food which should reduce the need to take Gotcha to the vet for pruning.

A week without timetables, with enough to do but no rushing anywhere.

A pump company who sent a replacement pump within an hour, and who have finally agreed to issue a spare.

A certain small child, whispering "Father God, thank you for my Mummy" as she sits on the potty.

But I do not like
The fact that LF is now big enough and heavy enough to need hoisting, and has somehow not learnt how to transfer herself instead as hoped. Nor that the hoists are of a design which means she can't hoist herself with them. Nor that the feed pump broke yet again, less than a month after the last replacement.


Anonymous said...

What part(s?) of using the hoist means that LF can't use it herself? Have been doing research recently into weird and wonderful unusual hoist designs, and wonder if there just might be a way. Suspect you have investigated all possibilities, but just in case... x

pippinsmum said...

Sounds mostly good, especially the last one before the small print

Order and Chaos said...

Little Fish you are a Little Pickle lol

Tia said...

She can't hoist herself because it only lifts up and down. To slide it sideways you grab the sling (or a handy ankle) and tug. Which is much quicker than the powered one, so better for hoisting wet bodies out of bath tubs. But not helpful for independence.

Anonymous said...

Ah, okay. Shame there arn't quicker powered ones. Perhaps in time LF might decide the slowness is worth it, at least in her room where it's only her using it? Might there be some method involving a handy grabber/bit of rope or something of that ilk, for her to use to move it from side to side? I know they usually need very little actual force to move. I once saw someone propelling a manual wheelchiar using two walking sticks in a sort of oar motion. I'm thinking that sort of thing, but perhaps walls rather than the floor. Not the sleekest of accessibility ideas...

Anonymous said...

Prevoius school had one as does someone where else a H frame hoist that can be powered in in all four directions plus up and down. We were offered it for home but opted for the up/down,left/right powered and the forward and back non powered for speed.


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