Aged Parents…

Email from Mum (so apparently not urgent, at least, not by the standards of an 80 year old). Dad’s had double vision, fell over yesterday and cut his face and chipped his tooth (never does anything by halves. Still won’t tell us why there’s a chunk out of his nose…that’s been a mystery for about 4 years now). The nurse patched him up yesterday, but, apparently, didn’t enquire about double vision (why not?).

This morning he pootled to the GP about his sciatica, told her about the double vision (amazingly, remembered to tell her about the double vision: and listened to my Mother telling him to tell her about the double vision. Because, you know, forgetful and stubborn almost-77-year old). GP packs him off to hospital in an ambulance (this happens with alarming frequency. Both parents have had at least one trip to the hospital in an ambulance from the GP in the last year or so), worrying that his blood thinning medication has caused problems, and sending him for a scan.

Mum refuses to have me go up there, but did promise to phone various neighbours, whom I am sure will go round and have a cup of coffee with her for a bit. She can’t drive to hospital (all the dizziness has meant she’s not been out on her own for over a year), but will get a taxi if required.  I’m generally persona non grata when Dad’s ill (not by choice…he just doesn’t like having me around if he’s not able to be the full protective Papa) so I’m sitting and trying not to fret.

Thing is, I’m not sure this isn’t the end of the beginning, as it were, and it’s just going to be an inexorable decline over the next couple of years. Which will suck mightily for all concerned, even if it is inevitable after 70-odd years of living life, and carousing more than is good for you.  And I’m just not quite ready for that yet.  Particularly given that there will be a requirement to be stoic and good tempered about it all. Because that, apparently, is how we roll in this family. Except when we don’t.



It was pretty out

Which made up for the incredibly slow pace. Jetlag invariably slows me down for weeks. It’s a very nice problem to have. Ignore the barbed wire. I was by the fisheries. 

We are vaguely watching the Moto3 GP. I quite like the motorbikes whizzing round like toys on a Scalextric track. Even more, I like that some of the riders at this level are female. Competing on a completely level playing field. 

I’ve spent a happy hour and a bit getting the lights in my dollshouse functional. They all now work for the first time this century. Next I shall remove bits of skirting and mark them to be sawn (want it a bit less windy outside before I do the sawing) to make space for the fireplaces I bought after fitting the skirting. And mark up the new floor for the bedroom. I’ve upgraded to wood. From polyester stick on carpet. I was given this house for my 18th birthday. And it has been ignored for too long. 


Ah yes… another year

My lovely friend Em would have been 40 this year. It’s been nearly 8 years since she died, and, cliché as it is, I won’t ever stop missing her. The only good thing about this birthday is that I can mark it in style for her. Somehow, I managed, in the space of 9 months, to be one of the top 100 volunteers at work, in terms of time volunteered to charitable causes. This means a rather nice cheque to be shared between two causes. Naturally, one will be Local Guiding, and the other will be a charity I choose with her Dear Other. Being able to do that reduced the howl quotient when I was away, in Indy, with work, and remembered her birthday. At least a day late. She’d have told me not to howl…

Two weeks plus away from home is far too long. Even if it involves the loveliness of visiting W & A in rural Illinois. And the loveliness of visiting TF&R in Chicago. And the loveliness of a really good yarn shop and gin distillery (close together but not the same place) and a curry house of surprising yumminess in Indinanapolis. It’s still too long. N looks neglected (to be fair, 3 weeks before a marathon he has lost so much weight training that he will look neglected anyhow). The house is a state. There is laundry everywhere for days afterward and it takes a wee while to get the body back into the same circadian rhythm as everyone else. 

On the plus side, F and I got to spend hours in the miniature rooms exhibition in the museum of modern art in Chicago, and we are now feeling very inspired about our dollshouses. I have worked out what I need to do to get the lights working and I have bought the necessary materials. F is knitting lace curtains. 

There were doggies and kitties to adore. I met many many puppies. I got to run a little, and gave myself dreadful asthma by exercising when it was a. -8degC and b. 30% humidity (not a good combination. Lesson learned). I saw my favourite colleagues. I learned new stuff. I actually met my boss!

I ate very well on the last few days. I snuggled a Newfie and a Pyrennees dog. I enjoyed sunshine. I swore never to fly United again. Nothing truly dreadful happened, but it wasn’t wonderful. 

And I took a few photos. 

There was some knitting. I finished one pair of socks, started a second, produced at least a metre of floofy scarf (I think that will go and live with A. It’s not really me and she thinks it’s so lovely and said so), but failed on a hat. I’m now working on squares for a joint blanket for a wedding present. This I freely admit I resent immensely. I have other things I want to knit more for closer friends. I had to go buy acrylic (it’s sparkly, from Poundland).