Extreme Knitting Redhead: Two

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Two

Two 20 milers that is.

Last week I was nearly blown off my feet it was so windy. It really sapped all my strength as it was a particularly hilly route. This week it wasn't as windy but it was raining! I actually don't mind the rain too much as it cools me down. I ran very slowly and felt OK all the way round.

Next week is a step-back week and then I've got the Tunbridge Wells 1/2 the week after where I shall see if all my speedwork training has made a difference. I certainly hope so as it's jolly hard work.

Now for a different Two. The sweater tunic one.

I completed it.

I hated it on me - it is definitely not suitable for anyone with a bust or in fact for anyone with anything other than a boyish, stick-insect figure!

I've ripped back all but the front of it so I thought I'd record it to show how the heart motifs worked out. I rather like them. This remaining piece will be going in the freezer overnight for ripping back tomorrow - that's a useful tip for anyone who has to rip back mohair as it makes it so much easier.

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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.