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My journey across the small corner that is my universe. The flailing, wailing, laughing, snort rumplingness of it. The hurt, pain, and the tears. All of it. Since my Dad's diagnosis and turning 30, i feel like i have had a very small, but very real ep
Right, time for THE update. Hospital report on Dad.
Palliative Care has been set. They feel he will deteriorate within 6 weeks.
We've been told there are a lot of tumours in the brain and that the change
will be swift. SO IN LIGHT OF THAT, I thought I would share with you the Cat
Lady story for some much needed light relief. (Apologies for the swearing)
Right. So most people have heard about Dad through the
grapevine that weaves its way around my work place. A lot of people have spun
platitudes. Some have simply been honest and said, ‘I don’t know what to say’.
These people I like muchly. The ones I really love are the ones who say.’ Jesus
Kate, that’s a big bag of w*nk right there.’ I don’t need you to make it
better. I need you to agree its sh8t. And Crap and that there is an evil
presence in the world that has aligned its forces against me and we must take
up arms against it with an Army of Ninja Penguins and assorted
snacks/chocolate/cider/beer and GUNS. Many many guns.
However SOME people tend to veer sharply to the Looney side.
There is a lady in filing; we will call her Doris for this. She is a very
lovely, but a very weird, older lady. She’s one of those that always has a
tissue about her, and smells vaguely of TCP and mint. However, she may look
meek and a bit wet, but F9CK ME, don’t piss her off. She’s misleading that
one……..Anyway, I'm over there one day and the conversation goes a bit
‘I’m so sorry to hear about your Dad dear.’
‘Thank you Doris. I know it’s all a terrible business*
*By the way. It's all
frightfully middle class in filing. The women all have twin-sets from
Marks & Sparks and there is a cheese plant in the corner of the room
‘Yes it is. Oh dear, I know just how you feel.
*Fumbles for a tissue,
this one in her waistband*
'It was terrible when my Charlie was diagnosed.’
now I'm thinking, oh god, I’ve upset someone else again
‘Oh Doris! I'm so sorry. How old was Charlie?’
With the amount of
tissue fidgeting that’s going on I'm thinking, Son, Daughter, Husband
’He was 17 years old.’
Oh Bly! This is
sounding awfully more tragic by the second here. I mean, My Dad is 72. I
don’t want him to die you know, but he IS 72 and smoked all his life. I mean,
17 is no age at all
‘Oh Doris, I'm so so sorry.
I didn't mean for this to upset you.’
‘Oh don’t be silly dear. It's quite OK. I helps to talk
about these things sometimes. And besides, 17 Years is quite old for a
If you were watching my face, you could actually see the
muscles all freeze at the same time, and witness the widening of my eyes as my
brain slams into a wall. The only stream of consciousness that raced through me
at that moment was this…..
You. Are. Sh8tting.
You’re talking about a Cat? A f9cking CAT? A CAT?!
SERIOUSLY?? You’re comparing my dad to your decrepit, ailing, feline?
*facepalm* Oh there are not enough filters IN THE WORLD for me to be able to
say ANYTHING remotely appropriate. By this point I am savagely chewing through
the inside of my cheek, and I am very aware that a tick has started jumping in
my left eye.
It gets worse as she then dabs at her eyes with a tissue she
has produced, this time from her bra strap (honestly, she’s like a walking
tissue box) and is telling me how awful it was when they had him put down, how
it broke her heart and she’s never been the same since. (*raises eyebrow* -
Clearly, I'm thinking) By this point I’ve subconsciously started
backing out of the office and I manage to escape from watery eyed, tissue
concealing, mad as a badger’s foot Doris by thanking her for her kind words and
by a whisper I narrowly avoiding blurting out, ‘Well…. *rubs hands* I ought to
get back, the sausages are missing me.’
You can try to justify this one all you want with the, ‘She
was only trying to reach out and connect with you.’
The only thing that woman has ‘connected’ with recently, is
a shovel upside the head.
I was talking to the GF last night, and it appears that I am
not the only one that seems to stumble from one laughable almost unbelievable
situation to another. These people seem to follow her around as well. She also
gets those days that leave you looking in the mirror at yourself and saying,
’You know, I couldn't make this sh8t up.’ In fact some days I have
head-butted myself in the mirror whilst moaning the word, ‘Why?’ over and over
As bat-sh8t mental as my life can get?
I wouldn't swap it. It is what it is. And mental, cat loving, bunny boilers
aside, I think it's pretty damn magic.
Shoot the effing walking tissue box :) :)
You made me piss myself yet again, bad girl. Going to be in bloody nappies before long if you and Little My keep this up.
Not defending her, but said to my son only yesterday that our (Dave and I) conversations are about our dogs, his is about his girls. He replied 3 groups of people, old married (us), married with young family (him) and SINGLE
I remember single fun life ha ha.
Ha ha too... glad its not just me, though got to watch we don't make Shaz incontinent....
Still, makes us laugh and therefore in my book too... life is pretty damn magic!
What a wonderful picture you paint of Doris. A typical old maid, I should think. Reminds me of Mrs Slocum in 'Are You Being Served?' who was always talking about her pussy. But perhaps you lot are too young to remember that series? John Inman was in it too and was always calling 'I'm Free!' to anyone who would listen.
Joking aside, you definitely cannot compare the loss of a cat to a beloved family member suffering from cancer. I love my animals and would be heartbroken if anything happened to them (and have been heartbroken in the past when I've lost one), but their lifespans are inevitably shorter than most humans and you have to be prepared to lose them at some point.
Having said that, Gemma is only two years old and I've been told that Jack Russells can live anything up to 21 years. That would make me 82 so I'll have to stick around for a bit, just for Gemma. *fingerscrossed*
I'm rambling now so I'd better go and start cooking that chicken casserole I've promised John.
Love you ALL, Madge x x x x
p.s. I have got some incontinence nappies in the cupboard if you really need them nanny! :0)
Shaz and Little My
*Hands Tenna Ladies and Tea*
*flails like a windmill*
Aw bless you, I know how you feel, you feel like saying "you know what lady, i don't give a flying f*ck about your cat!!"
Hang in there xx
Molly, I was so close..... SOOOOooooo close.
Well glad you lot find it funny im peeing myself before my time........wouldnt mind but its self-inflicted....., by you lot, because you write with great detail and greater humour oooooooooooooh but i like it :)
Dont worry Madge, have pads at the ready.....my nice sister-in-law has saved me some!!!!!!!!!!!
Kate when the urge comes to tell them to "f*ck off", dont hold back, give them both barrels xxxx
Madge, really, 21 yrs for a Jack Russell,,OMG think I might have to put her on valium to calm her down, she thinks she is as big as King Kong all the time x
I will get this blooming curtain made,
Well I have been on this site for 2 yrs, and I never laughed as much in all my life. Anyone got tissues.!!!!!!!!!!
Take care and be safe Big Hugs Sarsfield.x
Wonderful description (have you thought about becoming a writer? Seriously) and you need a gold medal for keeping a straight face!
Sarsfiled, better ask Kate where the tissue lady works?
I keep getting told to write a sitcom.,........ LOL!!
Hey Sarge!!! xxxx
Surely you must be a civil servant. I've met a few Doris's in my time, the civil service is full of them. If she's anything like all the Doris's I've known, she has a back-up box of tissues on her desk, next to a little posy in a little vase, a Kit Kat in her top drawer and a picture of her cat as her screensaver.
Enough said. I liked Sue's 'Oh really' suggestion for whenever someone said anything blindingly stupid, insensitive or just downright offensive. However, if that doesn't work, a skelp to the lug would be my choice!
Or you could just say "Arse"? It's been recommended by someone...
Keep blogging, you and Little My have the tears running down my legs!
Love, Ann x
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