Rest and sleep have been limited lately, with Nick’s adventures requiring so much time and attention. But today, I had a day off.
You may think, ‘aww… that’s nice.‘ Not so. The usual dragging out of bed by the alarm, a quick coffee, then the slow encouragement to get stiffened appendages to start moving… before being towed for a walk by the dog; an excellent way of getting moving, like it or not.
A shower and a reluctant glance in the mirror. Yep, I still look like a boiled beetroot. It wasn’t forecast to be that hot on Sunday… but twelve hours in the sun has left its mark. Mainly on my nose…. Move over Rudolph! No point in make-up today then… Down to Nick’s and business as usual, making a batch of the vile sludge he calls a smoothie… and sorting out his next venture whilst applying dressings to the long wounds of the last one.
But by quarter past eleven I was out of the door, brooking no further delay. I had put my foot down, and we had, for once, not lingered in further conversation. Mind you, that was only because I had a hospital appointment. That was my excuse for taking time off.
I was a little early, so had time to luxuriate in utter decadence… I took my book out of my bag and read fiction in daylight until my name was called; a guilty pleasure, the guilt a leftover from the nine-to-five years I suppose. The pretty nurse greeted me… not, I might add, with a ‘how are you?’, no. All I got was, ‘I read your son’s story….’ Honestly, he gets everywhere!
I spent a while becoming my own waxwork. Madam Tussaud would have been proud… I just wanted the camera as the wax hands looked quite surreal. And being halfway through a good chapter didn’t help… with twenty minutes where I couldn’t even twiddle my thumbs and unable to hold the book or turn the page. Futile too, in the end… now I just have to wait for the surgeons to sharpen their scalpels instead.
A brief trip home to let Ani out. Another coffee then another appointment. This time with the sadistic contraption used for mammography. Not the most pleasant way to spend an afternoon, with delicate tissues clamped in a vice-like plastic grip, looking totally unlike their usual plump selves. On the other hand, a necessary procedure and one not to be avoided. It may well still be the best way of checking for early signs of cancer, but it isn’t my idea of a restful afternoon off! Particularly when you get, ‘I saw your son on telly…’ Is nowhere safe?
After a grudging stop at the supermarket, I finally made it home and got the shoes off. The power went off too, just as I’d switched the kettle on. By the time it was up and running again, the computer decided to give up, switching itself off and refusing to budge until it had scanned every single file. Bearing in mind the tens of thousands of pictures I have on the thing, that took a while. I’d barely got it going again when it staged a repeat performance… then forbade me access to the internet for an hour or so without explanation. When I finally got back on, it threw me off every ten seconds or so… I achieved very little.
Maybe the universe had decided I shouldn’t be on there?
There is, of course an upside to the day. I am abandoning the whole kit and caboodle and going to bed. With a book.