Thirty days hath September, April, June and November; February has twenty eight alone All the rest have thirty-one Except in Leap Year, that’s the time When February’s Days are twenty-nine.
Since my Last blog, I have met together with a woman from the Disabled advice bureau. It was an informative meeting but of no good news. Once your teenager leaves education, as a parent you are no longer considered as `living alone` and your Severe disablement premium is then taken and given to your offspring to automatically become the recipient as your carer, whether they are or not!
I have now received my Open university parcel of DSE141, Discovering psychology, and though the course starts on October the 6th, I have already had a peak and started getting myself ready for the challenge ahead. The book itself has over 400 pages and there is some audio work, etc as well.
I have joined the facebook support site, which was a great help when I did the counselling course as I didn’t feel I was the only one not always understanding or struggling at times, as well as the ever helpful tips.
I have taken up the volunteer telephone befriending. The first time I rang each of them I was very nervous, but once the ice is broken it becomes easier and I am enjoying it.
September is our Mothers birthday, and we enjoyed a birthday take away with her, as that is what she wanted. The young Grandchildren loved it, poppers, cake and helping nanny open her parcels. For us grown ups, a nice change from making Sunday dinner!
Our Mum has had a heck of a life and I have always been proud of her. She had two young children, the youngest disabled and in and out of hospital. Neighbours would presume she was abusive to me due to plaster casts and hospital visits, and they took it upon themselves to shout abuse and spit on her in the street, yet she soldiered on, despite ending up a single mother.
Re-marrying years later, she was again left alone but this time at widow with an eight year old child, and again she soldiered on.
At the age of sixty we finally had an answer as to why she had always been wobbly and unsteady on her feet, often falling without reason. I remember from a very young age learning to get myself up and down the stairs at home, on my bum, to avoid Mum carrying me as she seemed so precarious. At sixty she was finally told she had cerebellar Ataxia and now annually does the `wibbly wobbly walk` to help raise money.