Woke up with some slight general improvement. I can move around without muscle agony for the most part, but am still swollen and can't set down. The draining continues, hopeful faster than it is building up. Trusting the antibiotic to do the job is all I can do.
Got some of the preparatory work for Pentecost Sunday moving. I have the seeds of the sermon but not a lot of creative energy surplus at the moment. It's probably being used up on managing anxiety, which can be generated by vagus nerve stimulation from localised pain. Up until last week it had all but disappeared. The new inflammation has brought it back, but not yet as bad as before.
The result of representations made to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office from Kevin Brennan our MP and Eluned Morgan via the WAG has resulted in a response from the Consular office head trouble shooter. Hundreds and hundreds of words and hyperlinks, merely cut and pasted from government sources accessed by our family over the past couple of months. Flights today and on Friday are mentioned without acknowledgement of the fact that we were conned into booking BAe by the promise of none stop flights. Fridays takes 24 hours in three stages.
The government tries to suffocate people with too much information which avoids answering the question and confuses issues. I wrote a detailed reply sayings and complaining about the lack of proper accountability when it comes to accuracy of information provided by HMG and FCO . I don't suppose it will achieve anything, but I felt the need to give critical feedback, and vent my ire. I am joining the ranks of the legendary 'Disgusted of Tonbridge Wells'
Jules rang at teatime to say his mother probably didn't have long to live after the heart attack she had the other night. He said I could ring her as was conscious and lucid, but for how much longer he wasn't sure. I phoned her and we chatted a few minutes. As she was wearing an oxygen mask her voice was muffled, but it gave me a chance to tell her I love her and had always appreciated her as a big sister. I asked if she'd like me to pray a blessing over her and she said yes please eagerly. As I prayed I broke down in tears so I'm not sure she understood everything, but she knew I was praying, and will continue to do so, until I hear she's died.
I was grateful knowing that it wasn't a covid death, and that she has been conscious of heart trouble for months past, because we spoke of it when I rang her on her birthday. The day of my arrival in Ibiza. Yet, with son Jules and her brother at the end of a phone and not holding her hand, he and I joined the world's grieving legions separated from family and friends in time of need, having to entrust their beloved to strangers. Thank God Nicky has been there, her pillar of strength.
By this time I really needed fresh air and a walk, I went to 'Es Cuco' for fruit and frozen fish, having found an insulated bag in the back of the car, although it turned out the be falling apart. I made do with it to buy some salmon, just this once. That was just enough. Grief is exhausting.
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