Deep Thinking Times, 1, 2, and 3

It has been a while since I blogged, but life has got in the way unfortunately. Although not particularly chaotic, certain events required me to have deep thinking times, which rendered me without the words to send onto the pages of this blog. 

So, Deep Thinking Time One:

In October 2020, despite the lockdowns in France, we had people come to view the farm, which we had put up for sale when we left in May 2020 due to circumstances beyond our control. 

Despite our doubts that the young couple would go through with the sale....they did just that, and on 29th January 2021 the farm became theirs. 

Much heart felt thinking have I done over the last few weeks as a result. For a while I felt a sense of loss, almost of home sickness, for the farm, and the life style we had there. 

 

Thirteen years of hard work, and good work, and fun, and downturns and upturns, .......living life, that is what we were doing. But now the farm is in the hands of a young French couple, who hope to continue on what we have built. Time to move on, that is what we are now doing, but only after a lot of thinking time has been spent on making this transition. 

Deep Thinking Time, Two:

Since May 2020 we have been living in a typical English country cottage, which is rented while we search for a new home. We thought that we would move into a house in the country, maybe with a bit of land. A continuation of the smallholding life, we thought. But the months of 2020 brought about Deep Thinking Time Two, that perhaps we were done with smallholding life, that we had enjoyed the experience but that the memories of that life belonged to France and not England. Gradually we were shifting away from that life, and allowing ourselves to do so without holding on to what had been. 

A week before Christmas, and we thought we might have a look at a ground floor dwelling, in other words....a bungalow. Now in my head I have always equated bungalows with old age pensioners......somewhere where you would live when most of your faculties were gone...... but my partner was adamant that we should view the property. 

To my surprise it ticked all the boxes, previous viewings of houses having given us the experience of what we needed to have in a home and what we didn't. Mostly it was to do with floor space for an office, a craft room, a recording room, and maybe somewhere where a meditation room could be set up as well. We were not too bothered by the size of our actual living space, it was the work space which was most important. As for the garden, we found ourselves not wanting agricultural space, but maybe somewhere which would give us a garden which was more of a hobby rather than a 'must do'. The bungalow ticked all these boxes. 

We are currently in the process of purchasing the bungalow. I shall show you photos of it if and when it becomes our home. There are several factors, all to do with finances, which might scupper the purchase. But the bungalow is on New Road, Telford, Shropshire, and is called Libourne. A search on the internet said that Libourne is the name of a village in Aquitaine, France. This village is just north of where the farm is, which is called Labartere. So if we do end up with the bungalow, every time I say its name it will remind me of the connection we had with France. It will feel as if Labartere has led to Libourne, and I am really alright with that, and see the hand of Greater Forces moving me along with the plan of my life. 

Deep Thinking Time, Three:

Towards the end of last year I was having episodes of coughing and general malaise to my breathing apparatus. On the 9th of January 2021 I went into hospital with a particularly bad bout of breathing difficulties,  and was diagnosed with pneumonia, which cleared up within a few days with the help of oxygen and antibiotics. 

However, this is the time of Covid, and on the second night in the hospital I was transferred to another ward which had a patient who had actual Covid symptoms, which rendered me as First Contact Covid in the eyes of those who monitor such things. At the same time I had a CT scan which showed up certain problems, which then encouraged the cardiac people to want to keep me in hospital for further observation. 

So I was put into a Covid isolation 'tent', which is a white plastic gazebo looking appliance designed to keep everything Covid related outside of the tent, and me safe inside. It was a good idea, I suppose, but the nurses had to come in and out of the tent, and I refused to stay in bed, and there was no way I was going to have a chamode to go to the loo on and insisted that I was fit enough to go to the loo by myself and on my own feet. I wore a facemask when anyone came into the tent, as did they. I washed my hands frequently and did all the 'safety' precautions as given by the government.

But I was not going to stay in that tent all the time, so when the six bed ward was quiet I would walk up and down to stretch my legs, and have chats with other patients whilst social distancing, which was easy because all of them stayed in bed. I would not do that, because I thought that actually getting back into bed would be the finish of me. To lay on top of it was alright though, as was sitting in my bedside chair, crocheting, reading, making notes about future projects, and meditating.  

Because we were all in lockdown, no one could have visitors. For four weeks I did not see my other half, although he did bring to the door of the ward items I had requested, but I was not allowed to see him. For us, this was not too bad as we had mobile phones to keep in contact with each other, but for the elderly folk in the wards this was a deep distress. I learnt so much about the human condition during this time, and also of the feeling of comradery between us patients, and the way in which we supported each other. The nurses too, those generous hearted people who took care of us with patience and love. With Covid such a fear in most people, these nurses went beyond their call of duty, especially in the wards 10, 10B, and 8, which were the Covid related wards. 

But I only saw one lady who had actual Covid, the rest of us were First Contact Covid, but with negative results showing when tested. 

And sending blessings to Norah, a 97 year old lady, bed ridden, hardly able to walk, who had to have help with eating sometimes, and was so lonely for her family that it pulled at my heart strings. And to Rosemary, at 93 she had walked into the hospital but was now on a Catheter, and was probably not every going to get out of bed again as she had given up because her family could not visit. And to Chris who helped me sort out my thoughts about being in hospital, and to many others, including the nurses.....some of whom I helped emotionally, some of whom helped me. As I say, it was time of great comradery because of being so isolated from the outside world.

I was alright for the first three weeks, but when week four started I began to feel institutionalised. By now I was in a ground floor ward, and was feeling the effort of continually being positive starting to go beyond me. I had 'enjoyed' the thinking time that being in hospital had given me and had regarded those first three weeks as a time of rest from life. Everything was done for me, and it was good to just enjoy. The pneumonia was now gone, and there was no pain anywhere in my body. However, I was starting to feel that my mobility was sliding away, .....

So what do you do if you were me? And a cardiac doctor comes for a visit? A visit that he should have made four days ago but didn't? What do you do if you are me? You stridently demand that you be let home...... you say that you need to 'rebalance' yourself...... and he is saying that he wants to keep you in for a possible two to four weeks....... and you are resisting, knowing that he might want you to stay in because it is appropriate for your body, but for your mind it is no good because you can feel yourself not yourself.......So he said to give him two more days so he can have a meeting with the cardiac team, and you say 'sorry' to him because he is, after all, only doing his job of trying to take care of me, and so on Thursday he appears and says that I am go home, but to attend Outpatients. 

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And that's it so far! It was magical to see my partner waiting to collect me from hospital, and I was relieved to be able to walk from the hospital to the car. I had gone into hospital in a wheelchair. It felt an achievement to be able to walk away from it. 

Overall I feel better in myself. The farm is now in our history, and hopefully soon we shall be in a new home although the cottage is alright for the moment. 

Bye for now, 

In love and light

Vx.