I really REALLY hate it when my blog starts reading like one of those blogs. You know the ones, where it’s all doom and gloom and bitching and woe and wailing and gnashing of teeth. The ones you stop reading because you reach saturation point. It’s too depressing, too relentless, too incredulous that life could be that hard for one person and their family so often or so regularly.
But.
Let me share with you a scene from our house this morning:
Yes, that would be a shitload* of ambulance officers down our side path at about 8.40 this morning. If you look closely, you can see the ambo in the front of the picture is kneeling tending to someone on the ground.
That would be my mother. You know my Mum, she of two hip replacements, one of which her body is rejecting. She of increasingly severe arthritis. She of the CHRONIC.BAD.BACK.
I mentioned yesterday that it was still raining here, which is coming up to about almost three weeks of really really wet weather. Mum slipped over on one of the ramps we built for Oscar’s wheelchair when she was taking her last little bit of rubbish out to the bins before the garbo came.
As she lay on the freezing, wet pathway shaking violently from shock we had one of those weird role reversals where you become like the parent reassuring the frightened and in pain child. Our neighbour, Felix and I held umbrellas over her, tried to shove some towels under her to get her off the cold wet ground and covered her in a blanket. A rapid response vehicle came first, quickly followed by not one but two, TWO ambulances.
