14 th February

Vick was a bit perkier today, much to her annoyance.  She just wants to slip away and feels embarrassed if people think she was just about to die and then hasn't gone and done it.  She even ate a bit of fruit and yoghurt.  Our friend T read her the brilliant poem by Carol Ann Duffy called Valentine, which is about giving your loved one an onion.  
Some of us sat for a while in the nearby bird hide today, as she gets so sick of us all sitting about.  I love the way you just have to be patient in bird hides.  Like fishing I suppose.  Something I am not at all good at.  We saw blue tits, great tits and coal tits.  
I have no idea how long this strange time will go on for.  Vicky remains comfortable, but can't be bothered with seeing us all that much.  I understand; I am sure I would be the same.  I know I have to let her go, although it is hard.
Josie

13th February

Vicky was more comfortable today and looked serene on pink pillows with the smell of hyacinths in the room and her John Lewis nightie on.  We all had a relaxing day, with poetry, and a walk in the ancient woods nearby.  The hospice are generous and hospitable about letting Darlings drift in and out, and use the fridge in her room for snacks, and make endless trays of tea.  We watched the rain and the sun making droplets glisten on the branches, and blue tits out of her French doors.
She is not eating and only taking sips of water, but sometimes wakes up and says something perfectly lucid.  She doesn't seem at all anxious or fearful.  I have told the nurses she is not one to press the bell or make a fuss so they may need to check on her if we are not there.  I am trying to give up any role of being a nurse and just be a daughter.  
Josie

12 th February

It's lucky I have a big family as we all sit around the hospice bed like a tribe of gorillas while Vick dozes.  She doesn't like a lot of fuss and doesn't like to be given choices.  She is taking sips of water or sucking bits of ice but doesn't want to eat.  She has a syringe pump with some morphine and an anti-sickness drug in but the hospice has given very cautious doses and she is sometimes a bit uncomfortable I fear.  We have some poetry books around, some massage oil, and can make regular cups of tea in the kitchen next door.  The donkeys there are called Dudley and Dylan, and we keep discussing boys names for my new great-nephew soon to be born; Vick thought he should be named after one of the donkeys.  I prefer Dudley Darling to Dylan.
It feels good to come home, eat and sit by the fire knowing Vick is safe.  This is a strange time.  
Josie

Later on 11 th February

No community nurses came but Danny and all my three daughters were there and we listened to the Trout Quintet at Vicky's request while the sun poured in, and woodpeckers outside made their presence known.
The kind hospice doctor and nurses whom I know from my job persuaded me it was a good idea for Vicky to go there and she was surprisingly keen as getting to the loo is so hard and there is no sight nor sound of any carer support round the Ditchling area.
We waited for hours while Vicky slept, then two burly ambulance men came around 3pm.  I had always assumed that ambulance men just quickly bunged people in and were gone in two minutes, but these two were a delight.  They were unrushed and caring, and carefully gave doses of painkillers and anti-sickness drugs, and moved in a gentle way.  They discussed Brighton and Hove Albion's performance in detail with Tiger.  We calmly drove down the lanes to St Peters and St James, and they let Tiger and I ride with them.  I wonder if she will be a paramedic as she was interested in everything.
At the hospice, there are donkeys and well-risen cupcakes with icing and cherries and nurses who make you trays of tea and are heroines, and doctors who really listen.  Other family members came and we all relaxed.
Vick looked dignified and comfy and was pleased for us to come home and eat.  
I am feeling tearful and sad but comforted also.  Thank you for the messages.  Anyone can visit Vicky, although she is very sleepy and the disease has progressed.
Josie

11 th February

It has been a bit of a ghastly night, with another doctor coming at 2 am and giving some injections to control the nasty symptoms.  The doctor was a small black woman with the most gentle voice, and she examined Vick thoroughly and said she felt it was cancer causing all this deterioration, not any infection.  She brought with her a huge white man as a bodyguard, as he explained Ditchling can be very rough sometimes and they don't do lone working.  He was helpful with repositioning Vicky as she is finding it hard to move.  
The hospice has offered Vicky a bed, but we are waiting to see if we can get enough support in the community to stay here first.  
It is calm here with just Millie and me at the moment.  Vicky is sleeping all the time.  She seems comfortable at present, and we have suspended all arrangements. Millie and I have had porridge and tea and watched the bunnies jumping outside. I'm hoping the district nurses will come soon with useful supplies.
I know that Vick would want to reassure everyone that she is OK.
Josie

10 th February

I arrived at Vick's bungalow about 6pm today.  I had an anxious sad feeling over the weekend that things were not right as she developed a stitch like pain in her tummy.  She was asleep on the sofa when I walked in and looked grey and said she wasn't feeling good which is unheard of for Vick.  I helped her get into her pyjamas and bed, but it was hard to walk and she had pain and nausea.  I called the GP who came quite quickly and gave her an injection for nausea but had no pain relief injections on him.  Vicky is sleeping now and I'm sitting beside her.  My daughter is coming to help tonight.  I've had some supper and a cup of tea and the washing machine is on.  Vick doesn't want to go to the hospital so we are at home.
The wind outside seems to have died down, but there was a menacing bright light earlier today.  
Vick can't write her section at the moment but I read her mine, and we both send lots of love.
Josie

3 rd February

 The equipment crisis has resolved itself.  The spurned bathing machine sits sadly in the hall waiting to be collected but I love the other stuff; a little four-wheeled chariot with a seat, and the useful trolley.  I still appreciate what my brother calls The Great Mechanical Bed.  Otherwise, I am plunged in gloom over Brexit.  Saturday's Guardian said it all - a wonderful article by Ian McEwan reduced me to tears, and the farewell letters from EU countries were so moving.  
My old Nissan Micra, otherwise known as the Rust Bucket, which now belongs to granddaughter M, broke down in the week.  What a disaster.  In spite of all its dents and bumps, it is a car with a heart of gold.  She has decided to get it repaired and will continue to bail out the rainwater when it collects in the footwell.
Healthwise I've decided not to have any more scans.  I am very happy sitting on the sofa.
Vicky.
Here we are.  I've almost moved into Vicks it feels like, although today due to her new call bell around her wrist she says she would like to try a night alone on Wednesday.  We agreed I could tuck her up in bed perhaps after doing various tasks then arrive first thing in the morning again for breakfast.  I am very happy here, and we are having lovely meals and chats, but I suppose it is nice to be in one's own bed, and for Tiger not to feel abandoned.  I wonder if the cat misses me as much as I miss her in spite of her uncertain temper.  At weekends other family members and friends come, and last weekend I did some samba drumming, learnt shiatsu massage and had a sauna on the beach so I'm not just a Carer.  
When I'm here in Ditchling I sometimes walk around the block to stretch my legs and love the puddles and the oak trees and the mossy smelling twittens and the quiet sense of being under the South Downs.  
I had some Guinness and some red wine with Danny when Dry January finished and it was delicious.  I feel I have lost the bright-eyed pure feeling of no alcohol for 31 days, but I'm ever so pleased January is over.  
Inside Number 9 starts tonight which I usually enjoy.  Better than Love Island anyway.
Josie