It is not my intention to saturate you, my reader, with Too Much Information about things that can be just a tad icky and eye-watering. Let's just say I enjoyed New Years Eve not at all. After breakfast on the last day of 2014, I made my way to the loo in my house (and for 2015 I'd really like to get a new one, and have tiles put down, but oh well...) to void my bladder. Instead of the relief that goes with, uh - relieving oneself - I found myself hissing sharply inward through clenched teeth, and crying, 'Holy crap, that feels like pissing a razor blade!' Managed to get myself an appointment with one of the local GPs, and was given a prescription for antibiotics. Waited for the prescription to be filled, and joked with the staff about how, given my paid work as a carer, I'm usually putting in other peoples' prescriptions. This time it was mine. Shared a few jokes with the pharmacist about The Most Horrible Woman In Town, as you do, and went home with my tablets and a 2ltr bottle of cranberry juice. I very rarely drink this stuff, but I downed it like a parched woman in an oasis.
But it's no fun having a bladder infection on New Years Eve. I had wanted to take my children to the 9.00pm fireworks in a nearby town, but felt so ill, and truly couldn't sit in a crowd too far from a toilet because frequent desire to urinate is one of the wretched symptoms of these things, and with these things, you have to get to the dunny NOW. Not in a few minutes, but NOW. But bless whoever devised antibiotics. Was it Fleming and his penicillin? Was it the ancient Egyptians who used to feed sick people mouldy bread? (Mouldy bread? Eeeuuuuuw!) But on the bright side, by New Years Day, I was much more energetic, and able to actually do some activities with the kids.
New Years Day is the anniversary of my mother's death, and yesterday marked the 22 year one. But I refuse to dwell, and just look forward. Yet, I look at my children and wish she could have met them My oldest would have had her bragging up and down the street with his academic prowess (I just do the bragging for her!), and the youngest would have been a kindred spirit with his love of music and wild sense of humour. I wish Mum knew that I actually did end up publishing novels.
Today is the anniversary of my father-in-law's death. He was a beautiful soul, and the world was definitely left a poorer place when he passed. Later that year, we discovered B2 was on the way, so we gave B2 my FIL's name as a middle name. Right now, I'm thinking of that sad day when I watched my husband, along with various uncles on both sides, hoist the coffin to his shoulder and carry it into, and out of the church. I miss him so, especially today.
Enough of this sadness. Sure, I'm feeling in a bit of a malaise today. I guess New Year is a reflective time for many people. I just felt sick. Also, the sweltering heat is not doing much for my temper, which is a naked flame near a pool of petrol just right now.
Tonight, I am going to do something I haven't done in almost thirty years: I'm going to watch 'Beverly Hills Cop'. It's on TV tonight. My 13yo asked was that the one with Axel Foley, and I said it was. He asked about 'Axel's Theme'. So yes, watch it with Mum tonight, my son, and have a look at what made the Eighties great. I'm kidding. Hated that decade so much.
No comments:
Post a Comment