Well. It’s started. The slope downwards. Dad is now in hospital after his legs gave out on Saturday. Swiftly followed by the rest of his body from the neck down. Mum couldn't wake him up on Saturday, and called me in a panic. So I suggested whacking him round the head with a pillow. (Can't do any more damage than the tumours..... I said)
And with that, I hear a 'tut', followed by, 'Hang on then' and then in the background a muffled 'Thump' followed by, 'JESUS! What did you do that for!!!'
You see, humour has been the carrying force that has gotten us through this far. And although we are waiting for an MRI today, it appears that one of 3 things has happened.
Now, obviously being in Scotland I end up arranging most things over the phone, and luckily because the GF is a paramedic I at least have a head start on the healthcare side of things and who I need to kick when. On top of all this I've been away on training for the last week and I am shortly heading to Reading today for 4 more days of hotels and hotel food. So I will share a story with you from my time in the Travelodge in Edinburgh West. Dad found it funny and yet again I was told off for making him laugh too much. Apparently advanced lung cancer and laughing do not the best bed mates maketh....... *grins*
Wow. Wow and Wow.
Let me set the scene for you. It’s about 6:30pmish on a Thursday I’m in a travel lodge in west Edinburgh. I've been here for the last few days and I’ve seen a fair few things in this bar/lobby/restaurant/cafe.
What you don’t expect to see is what appears to be Victoria Beckham’s Mum sitting punch drunk at the bar in 6 inch stiletto’s with shopping bags from Harvey Nicks and AKA scattered round her, wailing and sobbing with large dark shades on. In fact, as I rounded the corner to plop myself onto my bar stool, the barman almost threw himself bodily across said bar in a vain, and unsuccessful attempt to extract himself from her.
And with that he skulks off looking so affronted I wonder if I'm after stealing his last rolo.
Still quizzical, I took a moment to take in the woman sat two down from me. Long greying thin hair, LARGE beckham shades, tears plopping of the bottom of her very thin face. She looks like a stick. SERIOUSLY she needed at least half of Cadbury’s world inside her to put meat on them there bones........Honest to god, if you went to bed with her, you’d end up with paper cuts from just touching her.
Still. I busy myself in the menu avoiding eye contact completely and muttering repeatedly in my head, ‘Don’t engage, Don’t make eye contact.’
‘Hi, I'm Gail’
*balls*
I slowly turn my head to the left and with a swift. ‘Hi’ dip my eyes back down to the menu. The barman and I exchange eye contact and we chew the fat (he’s seen me here all week) and I let him know it’s my last night here and that tomorrow I go home.
‘Oh aren't you lucky!’
I hear from punchdrunkvictoriabeckham’s mum. With a tad too much trace of venom in her voice for my liking. I clamp my back teeth violently together and a little sing song voice in my head pipes up ‘For crying out loud, Don’t poke the jelly fish. Just go eat your nachos and sod off Ya big giraffe.’ And for once, I listen. So off I trot and sit down WELL AWAY from cryingmentalwailing woman.
After about 5 minutes, she then demands that the Barman order her a taxi soon. So in between the odd sniffing hiccup and sobbing moan from the woman I carry on eating. We hear her saying again and again, ‘She’s going to die. I know she’s going to die.’ Worrying. Anyway. Punch drunk lady get’s her taxi and after finishing what I'VE seen to be her fourth glass of wine (I’ve been here for ¾ of an hour now mind) she attempts to stand up. And here is where it all goes a bit wrong. To be fair, with heels on that are the size of the twin towers I'm not surprised she totters as unsteadily as Bambi on ice. ESPECIALLY on the twigs she calls legs. My tooth brush is jealous. She takes one step. Then another, balanced by shopping bags, and then............. tilts dramatically, sending them crashing to the floor, along with a stool, menus and the sign by reception. Pawing desperately at the wall to remain upright, she spins slowly, and declares in a very dramatic posh voice, ‘Someone to help me please.’ And then stands there, hand extended, waiting. I stopped mid chew......
A very brave man (from Aberdeen) darted forwards and helps twig face out of the bar and into the taxi where she then proceeds to empty the entire contents of her bag onto the back seat to find her keys......... We all wait with baited breath to see if the lovely man from Aberdeen will ever return. 5 minutes........ 10 minutes passes, and his wife is by now starting to look a tad concerned. Suddenly he appears looking a bit harassed and walks into a round of applause from the restaurant.... Nice! We then set upon him to find out what the crack was.
Turns out the woman had visited her Mother in hospice. (I can hear the collective ‘Ahhhhh’ from here). She then had gone out shopping and bought lots of expensive things to cheer herself up, and it hadn't worked so she’d gotten banistered in a travel lodge bar.
Now. I am too looking down the barrel of the same gun at some point in the very very near future. And let me tell you. There is NO way you would find me badger faced, in any bar.
We all have ways of dealing with things. And we are all built very very differently. The lady’s story is a sad one. But one ultimately repeated out over the passage of time in different countries to many many different people. She has money, there was no doubt about that. But this proves that you can be rich, but be a lonely as hell, drinking on your own in a travel lodge pub, with a barman being your only saviour. She clearly had no other avenue to turn to. Which is sad. I am very lucky to have people who give more than two craps about what happens to me and mine. That love me. I know it’s a soppy thing to say, but I’m pretty rich myself.
Hopefully the muse and the funnies have started to return. I will admit that I have found this weekend difficult and it DOESN'T help that I am still getting the guilt trip ROYALLY. However brother has suddenly put in an appearance and suddenly he is the golden one. (muffled grunt under breath) Dad called me though from the hospital and declared that everyone sucked, the hospital sucked and that I was crap. He then started laughing, muttered something unintelligible about frogs and hung up. Turns out he was off his face on morphine!
I will catch you all later. BIG HUGS to you all. xoxox
