Dear Snuffy
Thought of you a lot this morning, that feeling of being disconnected.
Had a horrible visit with Mum at the home last night and as a result couldn't sleep. The thought of it all haunted me all bloody night and today. When I arrived to visit her at about 8.00 last night her face and hands were covered in blood and, given the last experience involving sutures and A&E, I naturally went sick right down to the boots of my stomach. She looked so pathetic I just wanted to carry her out to the car and bring her home and love her and comfort her. Ah, it's a b..alright.
Fortunately, it looked worse than it really was: she had cracked, very dry lips and they had bled! Why I hadn't noticed the dryness earlier I don't know. She had a good kind team working with her last night, but they are still only three at night with a resident headcount of at least 20, I think. Have made tentative enquiries about other places but think, know, there will be some resistance on the domestic front. Will wait and see.
So I was awake for the whole of last night, trawling through the Forum, trying to write something but, believe it or not, couldn't find the words, trying to read, anything.
And this morning I had NO CHOICE but to do the dreaded run up the M62.! Don't know how I got back as there was not an ounce of concentration and went around the wall of death at Norman's 'uyton of remembered days, twice in a deluge of rain I could barely see and I'm not sure it would have made any difference.
enough maudlin' business...
Thanks for the space.
Chesca