At the moment this existence is slightly fragile. We are socially isolated, me more than the wife. I haven’t spoken with anyone socially on a telephone for at least eight years. I have had a few Skype chats in the last six months. I may have exchanged half a dozen or so emails so far this year. That is about it.
Therefore, if anyone claims to have spoken with me and knows what I am thinking, they are lying.
The last time I had a quasi-social conversation in English, face to face, was when I bumped into the hairdresser in the supermarket, a few months ago.
At the moment the wife is incapacitated, her plaster cast will not come off before the 2nd of September review. There will probably be several weeks of physiotherapy after that. We were thinking about popping over to the UK to see how we felt about it, but that is off the cards until say October now. She has an appointment for a PET scan late September to look for any areas of enhanced metabolic activity.
And now it seems that I have torn an intercostal muscle. I have been told to take things very easy for four days and they have prescribed me some strong pain killers, a mix of caffeine, opium and paracetamol.
You can’t carry cups of coffee on crutches and with a plaster cast. I am still going to have to drive, cook, shop, clean, put the washing out, load and unload the dishwasher. Gardening is off the agenda for a while. It will be too hot for the next few days in any case.
This will continue into September.
In one sense I cannot afford to get ill/damaged because there is nobody capable of looking after me.
People find it hard to believe that we are so very alone.
It brings it home to you…if the diagnosis is correct then I should be better in a few days. If not…
If I break, then we are up Sierra creek in a barbed wire canoe without a paddle…