“Tough as old boots,” texted back YoungLochinvar.  “Must be the porridge.”  And indeed, the Borders produces a pretty hardy kind of bairn, if his Gran is anything to go by.

Last Friday, her temperature was so low that it didn’t register on the GP’s thermometer; her blood pressure was likewise at rock bottom.  She showed no signs of recognising that we were there, was jerking and shaking uncontrollably and couldn’t swallow or speak.  She didn’t appear to be in pain but did look confused and distressed.  Two GPs told us that she probably had days left, or at the most weeks, but was unlikely to see her 90^th birthday in April.

Now I’m not about to tell you that she’s dancing the Highland Fling.  But yesterday she did say “hello” in response to our greeting, and smiled when I told her about ActorLaddie’s attempts to decorate the house to make it more sellable.  His decorating skills are a recognised source of humour.  We only keep him for his soup.

Today, she’s lying quite peacefully – less shaky than me now.  ActorLaddie got her to drink a whole cup of tea.  When we asked how she was, she replied “Not Bad” and she smiled when ActorLaddie told her about how I’d pulled a muscle in my back while attempting to make the garden look a bit less like the Somme.  There’s nothing like a bit of schadenfreude to brighten one’s day – as we vegetarians can testify. Moreover, as we were leaving, GrannieBorders mumbled something we couldn’t quite hear.  When we asked her to repeat it, she said quite clearly, “I’m just along for the ride.”  As good a definition of the meaning of life as one could hope to hear, I feel.

So, not out of the woods yet, by a long chalk, but definitely in some sort of clearing.  Which is nice.

We shouldn’t be surprised: GrannieBorders has always had grit to spare.  Apparently, she used to do the weekly shop by wheeling herself to her disability trike, sliding into the driver’s seat, collapsing her wheelchair and lifting it into the car beside her before driving off to the supermarket.  And I can’t even lift an itsy-bitsy bag of compost without hurting my back.  What a wuss.

Many thanks for the good wishes and kind thoughts that have come our way. They have been much appreciated and a source of strength in a difficult week.