Just back from a walk with B to clear my head, and to keep her entertained. It’s been yet another challenging week. Covid has very little to do with that, apart from adding an extra layer of work and precautions.

I smile ruefully whenever I hear politicians talk about getting back to normal. I don’t think that will happen here: in the past six months, my GP of 30 years retired, my Dentist of 25 years emigrated, and my disabled daughter’s morning carer for the past 10 years got a new job. I said goodbye to her this morning, and was far more upset than I expected. We both were. I don’t think B understands… I don’t know how she processes it when someone disappears from her life (though her carer plans to stay in touch), does she wonder where they are? Then gradually forget them over time? I know she does remember people, but not forever.

There have been other changes too, and I don’t think any of us will get back to the life we had pre-covid.

Also this week, I had to get my son to 3 in person appointments – that he agreed to or initiated. But despite him being an adult now, it’s left to me to make all the arrangements, including organizing a sitter for B one day, and collecting her early from her day service on another. I have to liaise with the services, confirming we’re attending, warning we’ll be late, working out my approach for each appointment to maximise the chance of him attending and engaging. This includes carefully trying to wake him at regular intervals before it’s time to leave. Then I field the follow up calls and emails. And don’t tell me not to do all this : if he doesn’t attend, while he has to deal with his feelings around that, B and I have to deal with consequences of his feelings, and I have to manage all the apologies and rearrangements to try and ensure that he is not discharged from services.

In fact he did attend all three appointments, but I’m not sure the results justified the efforts made by me and all the services involved.

So thank goodness it’s Friday. Though I did have to park B in front of the telly earlier for 90 minutes, while I made some essential phone calls, with all the stress and guilt that involved. But at least there are no more appointments this week and no early morning alarms until Monday. I’m just hoping my young adults will not need any support during the night, so I can sleep in. Because I’m very very tired.

We women have terrible memories, don’t we? I swear that Christmas for mothers is a lot like childbirth, we look forward to the joy of the family arriving and forget the stress and exhaustion involved in making the magic happen. Every single year.

This year it was extra special because my eldest daughter came to stay over the Christmas break after moving out shortly before the pandemic arrived. She didn’t travel from a very high risk area, just across the River Liffey, but contacts were reduced, windows were kept open, masks were worn and hands were washed till they were sore. All to keep us as safe as possible. And her presence in the house made all the difference. It was a Christmas like every other, but in the best possible way. All the usual family traditions were observed, but after the horrendous year we’ve all had, we enjoyed them all the more.

On Christmas Eve there was the annual trip to the supermarket in Sutton to do the big shop, followed by a family movie in the evening.

There was the big present reveal on Christmas Day morning, and Flying Tiger came up trumps again with the perfect new toy for B.

Preparing the traditional Christmas breakfast and dinner was tiring, even with help, but so worth it. And afterwards we walked it off and admired the lights.

The big pile of problems here haven’t gone away, but for one day at least, we were able to ignore them and just enjoy each other’s company.

Now the big clean up begins…

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Were you wondering about the fourth member of the family? Well he mostly stayed in his room. When he emerged, it was often because he needed support or pizza. But there were no crises, and I am very thankful for that.

It was such a little thing. My disabled daughter B was not herself. I can’t tell you how I knew. I just did.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and after observing her for a while, I thought I’d check her temperature. I do this a lot. I’ve had one of those forehead thermometer for years and I’m forever checking my children!

Much to my surprise it blinked red back at me with a reading of 38°.

Not good. I knew this meant she should self isolate immediately.

Yet opening the window for an hour brought it back down again..

At bedtime though it had crept up to 38.2

So I sprang into action. Day service: cancelled. Home care help: cancelled. Urgent call to GP: organised.

The GP was efficient and a test was arranged for Monday afternoon. By then B’s temperature was back to normal and she was eating and drinking and seemed fine.

We were fast tracked through the testing process and then drove home with the music turned up and B dancing happily in the back.

In the meantime I’d reorganised our living space.

From that Sunday I’ve been sleeping on a mattress in the kitchen. I put out special bins and hooks for PPE etc in B’s room, turned up the heat, put her in outdoor clothes and opened the windows all day.

Even so, I thought the test was just a formality. I wasn’t worried. I assumed it was just a 24 hour bug. We’d been so careful since March. So you can imagine my shock when the test came back positive for covid late on Tuesday night.

I slept badly that night, and first thing on Wednesday I contacted everyone who needed to know.

Then I did what I always do in these situations: I put a routine in place . As well as spending extra time on care needs, we did an online dance class in the mornings, lunch in the garden with an improvised patio heater, and too much iPad time on her own while I did chores and tried to sort out other issues.

The days passed and then I got my test on Friday. Another shock : it came back negative. Her brother’s did too.

Her self isolation – and boredom – ends tomorrow. She will be delighted and I will too. We have escaped lightly it seems. But it wasn’t easy, all the PPE giving me a sore dry throat and feeling suffocated, the need for constant vigilance, doing things in the correct order, remembering everything to be disinfected every time there was a meal or a toilet break. Huge respect for all frontline staff. It must be exhausting living like this all the time. But hopefully our brush with Covid is over.

Stay safe xx