![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_poppyAnything further from Bedford? We could transfer several of the women here as soon as they are ready to receive them. That's assuming they are truly willing to take on the burden of longterm care for people not likely to make much improvement. (I've in mind Mrs Bigglesby and Misses Braith, Chandar and Monroe. Miss Wynn and Miss Levi might be candidates for Bedford, as well, though they'll demand a different sort of care, and perhaps we ought to consider other options for them and for Astra Morgansen. I do trust that she'll revive from this nervous collapse. The mania of her first week here was bound to take its toll, but there are good reasons to hope for her recovery.)
Remus, you asked about the Woods and their group from the Vale of Glamorgan: I don't believe they'll consent to Miss Yates' being sent anywhere they were not also going, though she's still not showing improvement. They're absolutely insistent that they'll care for one another and that they'll keep together, the five of them. I've tried to manage their expectations with respect to Miss Yates' condition--I've told them that their own progress has come much more quickly than anyone could have expected and that she may require round the clock care for the rest of her life. They're committed to one another, whatever may come, and they're buoyed by Miss Maddox's progress and Mr Perkins' increased wakefulness. And who knows? They could be right that with their attentive care, Miss Yates will respond one day. Some things are beyond knowing.
We do still need to find longterm situations for the others. I'm afraid I'm not optimistic about Mr Atkinson or our John Does; all remain unresponsive even to painful stimuli. And, of course, there's Dedalus and Mr Kinlan, our hollow men, to make decisions about. Poor Mr Skeates and James Prescott will both need secure facilities in which to convalesce as they're both prone to wandering--there's still no improvement to short term memory for either of them. (Nor long term memory for that matter, but it's their inability to retain where they are or what's been told them that causes us difficulty minute to minute.)
At least I can report that Antigone Cantwell continues to do well: she's emerging from her fog for longer stretches of time, and this weekend's bright mornings have been good for her. As long as the room is bright, she's alert and engaged. She's able to dress herself, and I've set her certain simple tasks, like folding laundry and putting clean cases on pillows for me. She's even gone and plumped pillows for people in nearby beds, and today, I found her sitting with Miss Levi, holding her hand and asking after her symptoms. Of course, I'm pleased to see her acting the Healer again, and I want to encourage this as a way of helping her find herself, but the vital spells do end rather suddenly in exhaustion. She's been napping by noon every day--earlier if the morning turns grey.
If Healer Cantwell is the happiest item in my report Anna Lexington remains the most perplexing. Truly a puzzle. I've tried working out why I suspect her, Alice, but, really, I'm simply less and less convinced by her.
Do you know, she alone of all the patients has made it a point (more than once, actually) to declare her identity to me. Well, there's Astra Morgansen, but that's a rather different matter. Of course, many of them have lost their memories and their sense of themselves, but the ones who can provide their names when asked have seemed somewhat fazed by the question, and they've needed to think before finding the words. Most of them seem quite unmoored from their past lives and from time, including the present moment, but this woman calling herself Anna Lexington is different. She... seems eager to talk about herself; she's continually narrating bits of story about her past.
I've noticed two things about that, however: first, while her talk is almost always about her experiences (supposed experiences) as a Healer's apprentice, she cannot be led to talk about Healing itself--it's always a pleasant anecdote about a patient or their families or about unnamed colleagues, but it's never about particulars of symptoms or treatment; and second, those stories are never about things that would be part of an official record one could check.
I admit she looks enough like my memory of her that when I first saw her, I had no trouble imagining that the girl I knew might have become this hagard woman we liberated from Azkaban. She does resemble her, but... I don't know what to tell you, only, I honestly suspect our Miss Lexington is not, in fact, Anna Lexington, at all.
Remus, you asked about the Woods and their group from the Vale of Glamorgan: I don't believe they'll consent to Miss Yates' being sent anywhere they were not also going, though she's still not showing improvement. They're absolutely insistent that they'll care for one another and that they'll keep together, the five of them. I've tried to manage their expectations with respect to Miss Yates' condition--I've told them that their own progress has come much more quickly than anyone could have expected and that she may require round the clock care for the rest of her life. They're committed to one another, whatever may come, and they're buoyed by Miss Maddox's progress and Mr Perkins' increased wakefulness. And who knows? They could be right that with their attentive care, Miss Yates will respond one day. Some things are beyond knowing.
We do still need to find longterm situations for the others. I'm afraid I'm not optimistic about Mr Atkinson or our John Does; all remain unresponsive even to painful stimuli. And, of course, there's Dedalus and Mr Kinlan, our hollow men, to make decisions about. Poor Mr Skeates and James Prescott will both need secure facilities in which to convalesce as they're both prone to wandering--there's still no improvement to short term memory for either of them. (Nor long term memory for that matter, but it's their inability to retain where they are or what's been told them that causes us difficulty minute to minute.)
At least I can report that Antigone Cantwell continues to do well: she's emerging from her fog for longer stretches of time, and this weekend's bright mornings have been good for her. As long as the room is bright, she's alert and engaged. She's able to dress herself, and I've set her certain simple tasks, like folding laundry and putting clean cases on pillows for me. She's even gone and plumped pillows for people in nearby beds, and today, I found her sitting with Miss Levi, holding her hand and asking after her symptoms. Of course, I'm pleased to see her acting the Healer again, and I want to encourage this as a way of helping her find herself, but the vital spells do end rather suddenly in exhaustion. She's been napping by noon every day--earlier if the morning turns grey.
If Healer Cantwell is the happiest item in my report Anna Lexington remains the most perplexing. Truly a puzzle. I've tried working out why I suspect her, Alice, but, really, I'm simply less and less convinced by her.
Do you know, she alone of all the patients has made it a point (more than once, actually) to declare her identity to me. Well, there's Astra Morgansen, but that's a rather different matter. Of course, many of them have lost their memories and their sense of themselves, but the ones who can provide their names when asked have seemed somewhat fazed by the question, and they've needed to think before finding the words. Most of them seem quite unmoored from their past lives and from time, including the present moment, but this woman calling herself Anna Lexington is different. She... seems eager to talk about herself; she's continually narrating bits of story about her past.
I've noticed two things about that, however: first, while her talk is almost always about her experiences (supposed experiences) as a Healer's apprentice, she cannot be led to talk about Healing itself--it's always a pleasant anecdote about a patient or their families or about unnamed colleagues, but it's never about particulars of symptoms or treatment; and second, those stories are never about things that would be part of an official record one could check.
I admit she looks enough like my memory of her that when I first saw her, I had no trouble imagining that the girl I knew might have become this hagard woman we liberated from Azkaban. She does resemble her, but... I don't know what to tell you, only, I honestly suspect our Miss Lexington is not, in fact, Anna Lexington, at all.