Yesterday was another fairly hoffific day.
Anybody who has read this probably thinks I'm a fairly weak, self absorbed narcissist. Perhaps I am in here, that's why I use it though, to let off steam and try and get my thoughts in order. I've always done it in my diary, the only difference now is it's here on public view, rather than in the drawer next to my bed.
The fact is, I am strong. I don't say that in a big headed way, I am good under pressure. When my Dad was ill and died, I coped much better than everyone thought I would, even reading the lesson at the church without a stumble. You have to cope. Even though I'd lost my best friend, and someone who I always thought would be there when I was old, because he was only twenty two years older than me, I knew I had to be strong for others. Admittedly, I did crack up a bit when six months later I had another early morning call from my brother, whilst I was in London, saying Mum was in Intensive Care and that she'd had a heart attack, but had managed to crawl downstairs to call an ambulance, whilst all alone. By the time the train pulled in at Preston though, I had my act together because I knew people needed me to be strong.
My Uncle has gone to pieces. He's moved into my cousin's house and says he isn't ever going back into their house until Aunt Ros comes home. He also started crying at the top of his voice that he didn't know how my Mum coped when Dad died. This was done at my Aunt's bedside, and I soon shut him up about that subject. I know he loves her, and there will be a million things going through his mind, but most of them seem to be about him, and how his life might change. In the corridor I had a chat with him and told him he will have to pull himself together, because people needed him.
It was strange talking to him like this. He didn't marry my Aunt until I was seven and he was always a total aggravating bugger. The family still laugh about the time we were in a park and he grabbed my icecream and picked me up and put me in a wire waste paper bin. I couldn't get out and pee'd myself. The shame still lives with me, mind you I was sixteen at the time. Joking, I was seven. He did pull himself together a bit after our chat.
Auntie Ros is really ill. They have told us she has the hospital bug M.S.I. [?] She is also on oxygen as well now. The poor thing has six tubes in her neck, as well as her nose and groin. I got quarter of an hour alone with her last night. She managed to open one eye again, and sort of managed to say she loved me, and to go home, typical her. I told her again she was a fighter, and that she should just try and get through each day, and keep fighting this because we all need her.
She has had a difficult life, right from being born, things out of respect I feel unable to write about, but she has fought hard and I know with every ounce of her being she won't give up.
Mum's going to the hospital today with them, and I'm having a day off. I'm off to Stanley with Harwood Red, and tonight it's the meet at the Stag. I'm really looking forward to having a night out. Just what the doctor ordered, some good company and a pint.
Anybody who has read this probably thinks I'm a fairly weak, self absorbed narcissist. Perhaps I am in here, that's why I use it though, to let off steam and try and get my thoughts in order. I've always done it in my diary, the only difference now is it's here on public view, rather than in the drawer next to my bed.
The fact is, I am strong. I don't say that in a big headed way, I am good under pressure. When my Dad was ill and died, I coped much better than everyone thought I would, even reading the lesson at the church without a stumble. You have to cope. Even though I'd lost my best friend, and someone who I always thought would be there when I was old, because he was only twenty two years older than me, I knew I had to be strong for others. Admittedly, I did crack up a bit when six months later I had another early morning call from my brother, whilst I was in London, saying Mum was in Intensive Care and that she'd had a heart attack, but had managed to crawl downstairs to call an ambulance, whilst all alone. By the time the train pulled in at Preston though, I had my act together because I knew people needed me to be strong.
My Uncle has gone to pieces. He's moved into my cousin's house and says he isn't ever going back into their house until Aunt Ros comes home. He also started crying at the top of his voice that he didn't know how my Mum coped when Dad died. This was done at my Aunt's bedside, and I soon shut him up about that subject. I know he loves her, and there will be a million things going through his mind, but most of them seem to be about him, and how his life might change. In the corridor I had a chat with him and told him he will have to pull himself together, because people needed him.
It was strange talking to him like this. He didn't marry my Aunt until I was seven and he was always a total aggravating bugger. The family still laugh about the time we were in a park and he grabbed my icecream and picked me up and put me in a wire waste paper bin. I couldn't get out and pee'd myself. The shame still lives with me, mind you I was sixteen at the time. Joking, I was seven. He did pull himself together a bit after our chat.
Auntie Ros is really ill. They have told us she has the hospital bug M.S.I. [?] She is also on oxygen as well now. The poor thing has six tubes in her neck, as well as her nose and groin. I got quarter of an hour alone with her last night. She managed to open one eye again, and sort of managed to say she loved me, and to go home, typical her. I told her again she was a fighter, and that she should just try and get through each day, and keep fighting this because we all need her.
She has had a difficult life, right from being born, things out of respect I feel unable to write about, but she has fought hard and I know with every ounce of her being she won't give up.
Mum's going to the hospital today with them, and I'm having a day off. I'm off to Stanley with Harwood Red, and tonight it's the meet at the Stag. I'm really looking forward to having a night out. Just what the doctor ordered, some good company and a pint.
You can scream and shout at stanley and really let some steam off. But good to hear you are holding up and being there for your uncle xx
