Taking a Break

I spent several days in Paris last week, the first time I have taken a break from caring from Julie since her illness began over two years ago. Of course, I am being a little casual with the facts here - for much of this time she has been in hospital, which takes some of the burden of caring off my shoulders. Hospital stays mean that my weekdays are largely free of the practical problems of looking after her, but you could hardly describe the life you live as free: her illness still permeates every aspect of our lives. From visiting, to planning for the weekend, to taking phone calls from staff at the hospital, there is hardly a minute when you are not thinking about her or the illness. At weekends, when Julie usually returns home, life revolves around what she needs.  But this is nothing compared to the shock of discharge, when one of us has to be with her all the time, as we were through the whole of this winter.

So I was not going to turn down the opportunity to take a complete break from the situation. I deliberately left my phone behind, so that for those few days I was beyond reach. Joe took the week off work to cover for emergencies, and to distract Julie while I was away. For those few days, the only thing I had to worry about was which cake to choose in the patisserie, or which restaurant to choose for dinner. I walked, I rode buses all over the city, I clambered up and down the stairs of the Musee d'Orsay, and I got lost in the Louvre. When I was exhausted, I found myself a nice sheltered spot in one of Paris' many beautiful squares and gardens, tucked myself up in my coat on a bench, and read in the spring sunshine.

It was a fabulous break, and I came back full of unaccustomed energy and bustling with new plans. Poor Joe had not had such a good week: Julie had been miserable, cross and contrary. The school attached to the hospital has closed for two weeks over Easter, and the hospital is struggling to occupy the patients through the long empty days. Staffing levels seem lower than ever, and planned trips outside had to be cancelled. Joe suggested he take Julie out for day-trips to relieve some of her boredom, but her behaviour on the ward had been so erratic that the hospital staff were worried about the risk. When he finally persuaded them to let Julie leave with him, he was disappointed to find that she was in a foul temper. His sin was, I think, that he was not me; it was hard for her to have no contact with me, and she didn't want a substitute.

As soon as I returned, Julie's mood improved markedly.  She came home for Easter weekend, and though she has struggled through parts of the visit, she decided to stay on another night, right the way through to Easter Monday.  There have been times when she has even been quite her old self, with flashes of her wacky sense of humour.  I certainly won't forget her giving chase to a pheasant on our walk this morning in a hurry (nor probably, I think, will the pheasant).  She tires easily, and her mood sags, but it was a better picture than I expected.