Another hot blue sky day and windy. As the new set of antibiotics took effect overnight I was awake hourly and going to the toilet, which left me very tired and stressed. I also had a nose bleed, which threw me off course. I was meant to go walking with Solveig late morning but I just couldn't gather my wits to meet the rendezvous, so in the end I didn't go.
It's not physical incapacity or confidence, but rather my mind is overwhelmed and preoccupied with surviving this infection and getting home. This last few weeks it's become harder and harder to manage changes and take on new things, as if I have aged a decade. It's all about the stress of not being where I need and want to be, I know that. I'm in survival mode, desperate not to break under the strain and become even more of a liability to others. But I am grateful that I can still do as much as I can without messing up.
I walked down to Cala des Torrents again when it cooled off late afternoon. The beach was crowded and the beach bar was open and with a dozen or so customers sipping Mohitos. On the way back, I had a phone call from Kath telling my that my Ibiza-Barcelona flight on 16th has been cancelled. I've not had any notification from Vueling, and she only spotted it when she was reviewing the work she'd done on my flight bookings. The sixth cancellation, and without notification. I was too numb to react.
Quick thinking Kath had already booked me on an afternoon flight to Barcelona on 15th. I'll have to stop overnight, to get the regular scheduled flight to London Heathrow on 16th. It does seem to be running every day. She'd already found me a stopover hotel in El Prat de Lobregat nearby, with an airport shuttle service, so we booked it straight away.
My sister Pauline is slowly deteriorating, and I think of her saying she's ready to go, but lingering on still, and the distress of Nicky who's with her and Jules who cannot get out of Dubai because of covid-19, and may not be able to get to the funeral, because of the time taken to obtain necessary visas if he wishes to return there to his job. Heart breaking it is.
I walked down to Cala des Torrents again when it cooled off late afternoon. The beach was crowded and the beach bar was open and with a dozen or so customers sipping Mohitos. On the way back, I had a phone call from Kath telling my that my Ibiza-Barcelona flight on 16th has been cancelled. I've not had any notification from Vueling, and she only spotted it when she was reviewing the work she'd done on my flight bookings. The sixth cancellation, and without notification. I was too numb to react.
Quick thinking Kath had already booked me on an afternoon flight to Barcelona on 15th. I'll have to stop overnight, to get the regular scheduled flight to London Heathrow on 16th. It does seem to be running every day. She'd already found me a stopover hotel in El Prat de Lobregat nearby, with an airport shuttle service, so we booked it straight away.
My sister Pauline is slowly deteriorating, and I think of her saying she's ready to go, but lingering on still, and the distress of Nicky who's with her and Jules who cannot get out of Dubai because of covid-19, and may not be able to get to the funeral, because of the time taken to obtain necessary visas if he wishes to return there to his job. Heart breaking it is.
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