The phone went and it was Dan the man asking after his grandmother so I called the hospital.
My mother was having her ‘bum and bits’ washed, she told the nurse to tell me.
She was due to come out tomorrow but she has another infection.
When I asked the nurse whether it was sinister she said “I hope not.”
I am in a low-level-state-of-anxiety over my mothers hospitalisation, she’s a long way away from me and I have a packed schedule, when I get back from Glasgow – I’m doing EGGHEADS with Wincey willis, Sarah Green and two other women of a certain age – Jim and I will go and visit her on Thursday.
My days are shrouded in the knowledge that my 89 year old mother is completing her life with the help of paramedics.
It’s horrible, not that she is getting older we all do, but that her final years are so fraught with bureaucracy and lack of funds.
I have a little machine to take my blood sugar. An almond shaped meter, one strip with a butterfly on and a little gadget that pricks your finger, just like Sleeping Beauty, only I’m not sleeping too well and beautiful I wish…..
I used my middle finger on my right hand.
Took a deep breath and punctured the tip of my finger,
Scraped the blood droplet onto the butterfly strip and inserted it into the meter. It read 13.5
TOO HIGH, TOO HIGH.
My lovely acupuncturist tells me that the pancreas makes just enough fuel for one and when there is stress and the person thinks they are carrying too much the poor old pancreas screams in revolt.
I meditated for twenty minutes, listend to Clever Trevor for eleven minutes, worked on my face with a funny battery operated thingy thats meant to reduce wrinkles – lol – then went downstairs and drunk a litre of greens.
59 grasses in water that tastes just like – well 59 grasses in water.
Took the dawter to Tunbridge Wells whilst wearing my Shlomper thingy. Makes me look like a very unattractive Witch, had an altercation with a white van man who stuck up his middle finger and tried to bump me off the road, dropped her off at the traffic lights, turned the car round leaving myself just enough time to dress. Drove to JANET BRUMMER a brilliant masseuse who I haven’t seen for years, her little clinic is next to a superior launderette and a motor bike shop that the old git buys his necessaries in.
As she pressed deeply into my tissue with her deep tissue massage let me tell you it took all my will not to scream out abuse. I had my head hanging in the hole of her bed, I dribbled into the white tissue as I restrained myself. We agreed to meet, with her dog Casper a timid spaniel who was rejected by the coppers for his shyness not his ability to sniff, we agreed that at 7.30a.m on most days we would meet for a fierce and friendly walk.
Took the name and number of a Yoga practitioner, gave JB a cheque, drunk a glass of water and drove to the Supermarket to buy washing powder, fabric softener and 6 bottles of reduced fizzy water.
Ms Brummer worked wonders on me bits, not to mention my sugar level which had dropped several points. I’ve booked in for a set of six so that by the time I get to Phoenix I will be able to hold my head, and neck, up high and my glucose level will be normal.
His Masters Voice was out on the golf course with his friend knocking their balls about, I walked about in a somnambulistic state, and created some kind of supper despite aching muscles.
I’ve printed off my itinerary for Glasgow, organised the garage tomorrow afternoon so they can fit my wing mirror, in between which trying to sort Le Shed.
Once Le Shed is up and running you won’t see me for dust. It’ll be a thermos flask and sarnies down to the end of the garden, with a tap tap here and a spell-check their, here a tap, there a tap everywhere a tap tap, Old McBarnett has a plan eei eei Oh!!!!!