Extreme Knitting Redhead: Never drink alcohol before a big run!

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Never drink alcohol before a big run!

OK, I confess, on friday night I had a few glasses of a rather nice rose wine. I know it was ill-advised as I had a big running weekend ahead of me. Saturday was 10 miles and Sunday was 20 miles and you just can't do that comfortably after over-indulging! Believe me, my 10 miler was not comfortable and I really had to force myself out of the door. Today, I managed my 20 miler but it certainly wasn't easy - the first 12 miles were cross-country and although very pleasant I was going really slowly. Thankfully I managed to get my brain into gear for the final 8 miles and I feel quite positive now. I must try not to drink wine on a Friday evening!!!

The yarn for my latest project arrived on Friday so I've made a start. This is the base for the Rowan crochet bag. I wasn't sure about the colour of the yarn when it arrived (it's called 'khaki' but is more on the grey side) but I'm used to it now. The pattern is really easy so far and quick to crochet. Although the yarn is very nice and soft to handle, it is disappointing that there have been several joins in the first ball. The second ball seems just as bad. This is not a cheap yarn and it is very annoying to find joins like that. Naughty Rowan.

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Mum's Story

In 1997 my mother, then aged 81, had a series of minor strokes. Shortly after that we started to notice behavioural changes notably memory loss and confusion over everyday items. We thought it was just old age finally catching up with her. Then she started wandering and had violent mood swings. Although she already lived with us it became obvious that she couldn't be left alone for long and so I left my job to care for her. The next few years saw a gradual decline into the blackness that is 'vascular dementia'. My normally placid mum became violent and aggressive. She had psychotic incidents where she would see imaginary people (children hiding in her wardrobe, Russians sitting on the stairs, women stealing her clothes) and she would shout at them and sometimes throw things too. She was so convincing that we used to go and check that there wasn't anyone there! When my sister died mum did not know who Judy was or that she was her daughter. There came a point when I suddenly realised she no longer knew that I was her daughter and this was a terrible time for me. In the last 2 years that she lived with us, life for us all became almost unbearable as she needed 24 hour care - she couldn't be left alone at all because she would either wander off or hurt herself, she never slept for more than 30 minutes at a time during the night, she became incontinent and incapable of doing anything for herself. Finally my husband and I realised that we could no longer provide her with the care that she needed and she went to live in a special care home where the team did a splendid job caring for her in the last few months of her life. There she lived a zombified existence unaware of who she was, what she was or where she was. It was heartbreaking. She died in March 2005, the day after her 89th birthday.

Thank you for taking the time to read mum's story and I hope you'll dig deep and sponsor me using the link below to help find a way of beating this destructive disease.