When I was small, probably about four, we went on holiday to Butlin's. One of the advantages of being on holiday there was all the facilities, fun fair, indoor and outdoor swimming pools, non-stop entertainment and if you had opted for it, meals cooked for you. These days holiday camps like Butlin's and its rival Pontin's are seen as a joke, you've only got to watch the old comedy "Hi-De-Hi!" to see how by 1980 people had fallen out of love with them. Looking back at the yearly holidays that my grandparents took us on my memories are all fond ones. Precious time that I got to spend my my granddad, who I loved more than anyone else in the world, who unfortunately left me alone when I was 12. All fond except one, the one when I was four. My mom had taken me and my one sister to the swimming pool. I don't have any memories of ever going swimming before that occasion, yet at the same time I remember thinking that I could walk out of the changing room and down the slope into the shallow water. So I got my costume on and before I could be stopped I ran out of the changing room straight into the pool. Mistake. I sank like a stone down to the bottom of the deep end. I recall lying on the bottom looking up. I wasn't scared, even though I was actually drowning. Obviously as I am siting here I was saved by the life guard. The experience of being drowned by life is nowhere near as pleasant.
I know I said I wouldn't complain anymore, but you my blog buddies are the only people I can talk to. Yesterday we had a lovely trip in an ambulance to our local A&E as Mike couldn't breathe properly. The paramedic had checked him over and couldn't find the source of the problem so obviously they had to take him in. I stayed with him in the hospital for a while, but when they said he was going to be admitted, but he would have to wait in the corridor we decided between us that it was best I come home and get some sleep. Jut as well as they didn't find him a bed until 4:15 this morning. Mike is much better this morning. It turned out that he had fluid on his lungs, possibly as a result of the two units of blood he was given on Saturday. So Mike is fine. He might have to start watching what he eats and drinks to limit his daily fluid, but he is fine. Mike scares the hell out of everyone, but it turns out he is fine.
Do you think he'll be able to empty the dishwasher now? What about doing some ironing? He has never cooked so that isn't going to start and I can't remember him doing the washing, the original excuse was he didn't want to be involved with my daughters' smalls. I change the bed while he is on dialysis, struggling alone with turning the mattress. I am drowning in the mundane tasks, the changes that I have to make to accommodate Mike's new dietary needs and the inevitable grief that is part and parcel of loving someone with not one, but two life limiting conditions. I'm drowning and there is no life guard.
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