Week 3, 2024
Since my last weeknote my mum has been re-admitted to hospital, discharged and re-admitted again. Staff shortages meant that the “Hospital at Home” cardio nurse support she was supposed to have to help her stabilise at home didn’t appear - and the fluid in her body quickly built up. A few reflections:
the paramedics who collected her shared that they’ve both lost hope that the NHS is going to improve - that it could improve even - and so neither plan to be in their roles this time next year. I find that deeply, deeply sad. I still believe it can be turned around over the coming 10-15 years if the right decisions are made. Reflecting more broadly - what can we do when people stop believing that improvement is possible? How do we restore the optimism needed to restore our public services?
the nurses in her ward are angels. And - people just don’t listen closely enough to their patients. Even when her breathing was better, Mum has struggled to sleep properly for a year or so because her extremely dry mouth means her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth, waking her up. It also means she takes lots of little mouthfuls of water she wouldn’t otherwise need to take, in order to try and relieve it. One of her nurses yesterday actually listened to her and today brought her a tube of gel (a bit like Bonjela) that provides instant relief that last hours. My mum, if she could get up, would be jumping for joy. It’s a small thing - but a massive quality of life improvement and will definitely help with her recovery. Broader reflection - what small painpoints, if improved, would bring outsized benefits to staff, to service users, in our service design? Are we listening closely enough to even notice them?
you can’t help but think big and distressing thoughts when you’re in hospital visiting an elderly relative. About their declining quality of life. About prospective bereavement. About the loneliness of the people they leave behind. About the burden of elder care and how it’s distributed (in communities, in families). About dignity and pride. About what it means to live well and die well. About your own health, your own support networks, and whether or not you’ve made enough provision for your own Autumn years. About your priorities and whether you’re spending your remaining weeks the way you’d like to (I’ll have maybe 1500-2000 left). I never have good answers to these questions - moreover, I find they often push me into an unproductive and pessimistic headspace that makes the present (where I actually spend my time) less enjoyable. Broader reflection - what methods or habits can I cultivate to stop myself ruminating unhelpfully and extensively?
Being “back home” generally:
I’m finding myself indulging in what I’m going to call nostalgic comforts. Foods, music, smells, etc that remind me of my earlier years. Today it was the small of Vosene and Imperial Leather soap - ever-present in my childhood bathrooms - and the memory of Mum gently massaging shampoo into my hair when I was younger, before settling down to brush and dry it in front of the Antiques Roadshow and the A-Team on a Sunday night. What nostalgic comforts do I want to create for the future - for me and for my daughters? What rituals do I want them to remember? How do I want them to remember the experience of being loved as a child?
There’s an emotional distance in me that wasn’t here before. My family’s political beliefs have lurched so far right that we can’t even have basic conversations about current affairs now. The pro-Trump argument put to me was “better the devil you know, because who knows what skeletons are in these other politicians’ closets - at least we know Trump and BoJo are rogues” ::HeadExplodesEmoji:: And my Dad went off on a homophobic rant about how repulsive he finds Alan Carr and Graham Norton just as I was readying myself to come out to him. Reflection: what does it mean to love one’s family when you’ve grown so far apart that your value sets are unrecognisable to each other?
I needed to get out for some fresh air - so I went to my favourite place, the beach. The view of snow-topped Goat Fell over on the isle of Arran was stunning - and the grand buildings that line the sea-front are so impressive. Reminders that alongside its thriving fishing industry and coal mines, this town was once a major tourist destination in Scotland. Today though even the charity shops are closing down - it’s a depressed and depressing place to be. There’s even a popular Youtube video about the nearest big town - Ayr - called “The decline of a seaside town” - https://youtu.be/fB9d4Eetc9Q?si=Z7u86pe1POBsO_2D - telling the story that’s achingly familiar around coastal Britain I’m sure. Reflection: how does a community start a positive spiral of improvement - how do they rebuild the optimism they need to do so, when life is so very hard?
Dad mentioned wanting to go to the cinema to see The Beekeeper - but decided he felt too guilty to go to the movies while Mum was in hospital. To an extent I know how he feels - there are a few social things in the diary last week/this week and it has felt a little wrong going out and having fun while Mum is so very ill. But, key difference, I haven’t let it stop me. Broader reflection: guilt in relationships - it is hard to take things easy, or have fun, while people around you are struggling or suffering. We might worry they’ll be envious, feel like they’re missing out, or resent us for not sharing the burden or pain. But it isn’t a zero-sum game: you need to look after yourself so that you can look after others. People who love you will realise that (though not always in the moment). #PutYourOwnOxygenMaskOnFirst
And then in the life I’ve chosen:
Tuesday art class - I’m nearly finished my tropical fish and will share it in my next weeknote. I saw my perfectionist tendencies emerge this week because I started to overwork it - the paper surface began to suffer, the colours got muddier - despite my classmates and teacher really liking it how it was. It seems I’m still struggling with knowing when to stop tweaking, when it’s good enough, and moving onto something new. “Overdelivery” may not be as problematic as under-delivering, but beyond a certain point the benefits are marginal and the costs (and opportunity costs) get significantly steeper. True for art, life and work.
I went to a comedy club on Monday evening. I didn’t know anyone, having gone alone, but it was a great night. Lots of reflections from it. First - having met the comedians in the bar before the show, I saw how the stage completely changes the perception of the performer. The audience is primed to find the comedian funny - they’ve chosen to be there and they’re eager to laugh: just like in public speaking, the audience wants you to succeed, for them, not for you. Small things like being well-rehearsed, knowing your material, and working on your physicality can turn you from someone seen as anxious and shy to someone with a confident swagger - irrespective of what you’re feeling inside. And that’s important because they won’t remember your jokes/talk, but they’ll remember how you made them feel. I’m sure this is true for life more generally and I ought to focus much more on how effectively I’m connecting with the people around me (without overthinking it), and how I’m making people feel - as that’ll live on longer than any slide decks or reports.
I loved the in-person client sessions I had this week. They were only possible because Steve’s office is being renovated and they all had to work from home - so I didn’t need to be on childcare/dogsitting duty. I love it when a workshop comes together well - this week I was reconnecting people to their mission and high level goals, to the change they want to make in the world, and how that is (or isn’t) being delivered through their customer’s service experience. The sessions were really energising, I think we all “feel” aligned more viscerally in person - I ought to use in-person sessions more intentionally where poor alignment is hindering momentum.
I’m aware these first few blog posts have been quite long. I’ve been very reflective over recent weeks. I’m sure the posts will shrink down and focus more on work/professional challenges in the near future. But I’m going to continue writing these for me, not for you, so they’ll be what I need them to be when I write them.