Half way round the world

It felt more than six months since my last trip back to the homelands to see the folks, but that is all it had been when I once again popped over for a cuppa or two.  More frequent and shorter trips is the way of it, and some may think a week visit is too short when you consider the 27 hour door to door travel time.  But at the ripe ole age of 90’ish the chance of both folk’s health taking a sudden turn, and not for the better, is not surprisingly a higher likelihood.  And both my Mam and Dad have given us a scare or two since my visit in August last year:

Just six months back, with the help of Seeta, we had almost daily trips out.  Focused on country car rides, a hearty meal, and a little wander.  For me also the chance to revisit a couple of climbing haunts, where I was afforded the luxury of a few hours to relive a few lines: https://sandbagged.blog/2022/08/01/time-to-head-back/.  And for that trip I was picked up from the airport and the first stop was to Pear Mill, which I provided a bit more historical detail about in the previous post.  I really like this place, not least for the many great teapots they use:

We didn’t do too much on my first full day, but not due to jet lag.  That is something that I do not seem to suffer from regardless of which direction I am travelling.  I put my ability to avoid that by getting into my usual routine quickly, comprising a reasonably early night and getting up at 5:30am.  The reason for not doing too much is my Dad came downstairs in a very confused and unsteady state, he had for the third time in four months become unconscious.  The first time was in November last year, and the second was just a few weeks back:

As such we managed to get a late afternoon appointment with his GP.  The aim was to bring forward his appointment to review the observations being recorded of his blood pressure, which is scarily erratic with both highs and lows.  This resulted in a referral to the accident and emergency department, which Dad, Seeta and I sat down in at 7pm.  Here an urgent ECG, was followed by a blood pressure check and then blood tests.  Each item occurring after a minimum hour wait in the waiting room, where we sat for a total of eight hours:

This resulted in Dad being admitted, but with no beds available he was put in a temporary bed in accident and emergency department.  And Seeta and I headed home at 3am, longing for our beds and sleep.  Despite feeling pretty weary during the day I was determined to get out for a walk, and did so but it wasn’t an early one and I kept it short.  A walk in the woods and fields of the British countryside, taking full advantage of the universally accepted ramblers rights, is such a tonic.  I was not sure if I would be able to experience it as much on this trip:

The average temperatures for this part of the England in February is pretty low, and added to that the newspapers were predicting an “arctic blast” for the week I arrived.  This didn’t eventuate, and the forecast changed to suggest the snow and ice would arrive the week after I left.  The temperature still didn’t rise above 8 degrees Celsius for my entire visit, and rarely got above 6 degrees.  Regardless of these temperatures and as will become apparent, while Seeta’s pooch Friday cowered from the cold, I braved it:

Seeing Dad was in hospital, we decided we would head out and grab a bite to eat before popping in to see how he was going.  As it was this was the only pub we visited, and what a pub to go to.  One that the folks and Seeta hadn’t managed to get to yet, and one they will undoubtedly go back too.  Scrumptious food, good beer, great service, and a lovely interior.  Once we had our fill and felt completely satisfied, we popped in to check on Dad armed with a few treats from Costa coffee and grapes.  Not quite the feast we had, but appreciated all the same:

Only I popped in to see Dad, as there was a one visitor limit in the accident and emergency department.  He was still wait for a bed in the acute medical unit to become available, and despite very little sleep he sounded in good spirits, but still a little muddle headed.  On the plus side, as I arrived they indicated a bed had just become available and he would be moved in the next ten minutes.  And similar to the experience the night before, this stretched out to well over an hour.  But it did happen and while the ward had a two visitor limit the three of us all managed to get in to say hello:

The next morning I got back into my normal routine, and with first light arriving at 6:30 I was up and out the door at 6am for a wander.  While it was dark, as I started, it was a lovely and peaceful time of the day and I hardly saw a soul for the two hours I was out.  In the middle of the image above the pear shaped top of the main tower of Pear Mill is just visible.  This was a walk I didn’t get to last time, as it was detailed as being very muddy in sections.  I was however advised it had been reasonably dry of late, and despite being the end of winter it was fine:

Back at the house and after a few cups of tea, it was time to crack on with the next puzzle.  The second image of the post is of the first puzzle we completed.  That one had sat on my Mam’s puzzle board for weeks if not months.  The main reason being that her ability to stand over the table for any period of time is no longer possible.  So I spent a bit of time polishing that one off, only to be disappointed to find two pieces missing despite the label on the box indicating it was a complete puzzle.  A risk with second hand puzzles:

The above puzzle, was a quick and easy one by choice.  Fewer and bigger pieces, and an easier image with a greater variety of colours and patterns.  And this time complete, with my Mam popping the last piece in place.  Then it was off to the hospital, a place that Seeta along with Mam and Dad have spent a lot of time.  Both for appointments and also due to admissions.  This time the three of us had lunch in the canteen before the customary stop as Costa Coffee, where I left them and headed in to see Dad ahead of them:

He was doing much better today.  We purposely hung about until the doctor came round, and had a great chat about the situation and options for reducing the risk of blacking out.  Some known, and others new including a slight tweak to the medication order.  I was amazed when I first saw the medication list and number of times a day they need to be taken.  I can recall as a kid watching my Opa in the Netherlands take his pills.  We called snoepjes (Dutch for sweets).  Well my Dad could open a full on candy store:

The good news being that other than a single change in medication timing, and some basic good practises there was no more they could assist with.  Other than a need to follow up with the Parkinson’s specialist, which might take a while as they are rare as hen teeth at the moment.  So it was that after more hours than we expected, but should have been prepared for, Dad was finally discharged.  And as the above image shows he was pretty keen to get out and back home.  Where it was time once again to rest up, as any suggestion that being in hospital gives people a chance to rest up is nothing short of a fallacy:

Thursday morning came and I was up and out half an hour earlier, in part as the walks were getting longer but also as I was awake anyway.  I walked up one of the higher hills providing a great view of the city lights below with staff inside the above pub, atop Werneth Low, milling about preparing for the new day.  Being the end of winter the deciduous trees looked like skeletons against the early morning sky, stripped of any leaves.  This allow the spotting of squirrels much easier, as they scurried along the branches:

When I got back my Dad lay in bed not feeling entirely rested and unsure if he was up to joining us on a trip out.  But after working through his morning routine, being served a few cuppas, and having breakfast he perked up.  So we wrapped up for the day and headed out, this time managing to avoid the need for the trip to be focused on a hospital visit.  As such we headed into the Peak District, and to the famous Bakewell.  The reason being that on a recent trip here the three of them had found, and very much enjoyed, a café:

So we headed straight for the café for a hearty meal, followed by a traditional Bakewell pudding smothered in custard.  None of this modern take on the Bakewell pudding, but how it should be from when it originated from this small town.  This set us up nicely for a short stroll round the River Wye, with its bridge adorned with thousands of love locks.  A tradition that started in World War one in Hungry, not in Paris as many people think it did.  Despite finding the early morning 3 degree temperature fine during my walks, somehow the daytime temperature felt colder:

Probably a bit to do with walking slower, not wearing my boots, nor a woolly hat.  It did mean our walks together were short.  This was also due to the sciatica issue my Mum is dealing with.  Added to that and since my last visit she has also managed to break her elbow and then when that was coming good inflicted an avulsion fracture on her ankle that left her bed ridden for seven weeks.  They are more common in children as part of growth spurts, although adults undertaking sudden and high impact sports also get them.  So it was a bit of a surprise when the doctors realised what she had done:

Despite the pains and aches, lethargy and at times of lack of motivation that I keep referring too we all had a lovely day out.  Topped off when we returned via a slightly different route to come across the hill with England written across it just below the crest.  It may be a bit hard to read it in the above image but it is there.  I was however more taken by the stone walls dissecting the fields, hence the focus of the image.  With a decent breakfast and lunch, evening meals tended to be light if at all.  At 90’ish the body didn’t need nor desire to much food, and that also suited me:

Even with my early walks I really wasn’t expending as much energy as I do back home.  There was plenty of relax time at the house spent catching up on the papers, puzzling away, playing games of Yahtzee, Triominoes, and Rummikub, and the occasional bit of television.  The routine of the day was reasonably well set, when not interrupted with hospital trips or more enjoyable excursions out for a meal and potter.  The latter not being quite as frequent or long as my last visit:

Friday arrived and there was just enough time to squeeze a trip to Etherow Country Park for a bite to eat in the café, and short walk round some of the paths.  The almost daily trips out were taking a toll on my Mam’s level of comfort, which was obvious to see today as we slowly walked along.  Although she didn’t want to miss out, and today enjoyed seeing signs of spring creep in.  The wind felt especially bitey and we were pleased to be back to the warmth of the house, when it was time for me to say goodbye to Seeta:

She was heading off the weekend celebrate a friend special birthday.  This left the three of us to fend for ourselves, although I only have one full day left.  That one started a wee bit earlier and I was out at 5am, as it was the longest walk.  Starting along the canals in true darkness, which felt a little eerie and where the path narrowed my footfalls were extra careful to make sure I didn’t accidentally slip into the icy water.  This circuit was to take me back to Etherow Country Park:

I almost didn’t get there, and when I came across the footbridge over the River Goyt it was closed for repairs.  I could see no other way over the river that wouldn’t take me quite a long way off course.  So I did the only bit of climbing I was to do on this visit, managing to scale the barriers on both ends of the bridge to get across.  It was still too dark to take a picture of the obstacle I’d overcome, with light only starting to encroach as I made my way up and out of Etherow Country Park.  From here it was uphill back to Werneth Low:

While the view of the city was clearer, it was the lambs that I enjoyed watching as they bucked and played.  Another sign of spring being round the corner, along with a few green buds appearing on the shrubs and trees.  Not having the luxury of Seeta to chauffer us about, we had intended to go into Romiley, a mere few hundred meters away.  My Dad wasn’t feeling up to it, so it was only Mam and myself that stuffed ourselves with a late breakfast at her favourite café.  She’s a bit of a local here and even gets a special cup for her coffee:

I’m pleased to say that my Dad perked up a bit and being the first Saturday of the month, a film was being shown at the local Methodist Church.  He’s being going there for a while now, and during February’s showing he had another episode.  So at the end of the film when they realised he wasn’t, as they thought asleep, he ended up in hospital.  He was understandably a little apprehensive about going back, but he and I went along all the same.  The usual crowd here was nothing but very welcoming, and very happy to see him back and well:

It was lovely to have had a bit of quality time with both Mam and Dad on that last day, doing something that each of them enjoyed and are still capable of doing.  And for our last night together, not having stuffed ourselves silly with a big lunch, we felt like we deserved a nice evening meal.  We plumped for a Chinese takeaway and had a lovely final evening.  Early next morning I was once more packed up, and after getting the taxi driver to take a final image was ready for another journey half way round the world: