Last night I thought I was dying. I must have caught some strange gastrointestinal bug from somewhere inside the nursing home or else I ate something that was way passed its sell-by.
I weep for myself when I am ill. There is no one to wipe my brow, tell me I’ll be okay or tuck me into bed with a hot water bottle. If anything needs cleaning up, I’m the cleaner – ain’t nobody else going to do nothing. Always been that way and it makes me feel even sorrier for myself.
Years ago I said I needed a wife, so I could go off to work and ignore the family and be a major success in my field, if I could ever decide what field that is. Anyway, I would need some support, someone else doing stuff, not just me.
Well last night I wanted my mother – and you all know how bad I must have felt for that to happen. I needed my temperature taken, my head held and just a teensy pat on the back to encourage me to keep going. What I got was a cat who wondered if I’d taken complete barmy and gone off the deep end.
Whatever that was I hope it’s gone. Jesus. It’s bad when you have to Google symptoms to see if you’re dying ………