Heaven help me!! What's the matter with me Mom! She's trying to drive me to distraction, I swear.


A couple of times when we've been shopping she's looked longingly at the stacks of PorkPies and sighed wistfully saying she wished they didn't upset her tummy so badly. Last time she had one for tea we ended up having to call the doctor out, she was in so much pain. After investigation it transpires that she has teeny weeny gallstones. She knows if she avoids fatty foods she'll be okay, and she knows that anytime she feels the need, she can have an operation to remove the offending bodypart. Well naturally, when her sweet cleaning lady told her, by way of reassurance, how simple and easy the operation had been for an acquaintance of hers, she wanted the operation too. Mom does like to experience what her contemporaries do, and she so loves the idea of going into hospital. Laying in bed and being waited upon is like a blissful holiday. Eventually we persuaded her that it might be best to see if she has any trouble from it again before she decides to have surgery. So we are careful about what she eats. Well, low fat isn't too hard is it! Even she herself was being very very diligent, nearly to the point of obsession.



I got a phonecall from HWH at 9 this morning. We would have to cancel the lunchdate with Joyce...Mom was poorly in bed having had a terrible night of pain from her gallbladder. Oh poor wee Mom !!! HWH seemed sure that she was pretty much over the worst and didn't need the doctor and he seemed quite delighted to have been able to look after her during her disturbed night. He is the kindest most caring man. Totally devoted to her.

I said not to disturb her if she was resting, and I'd see them later, but she was awake and calling to speak to me. We chatted for a bit about inconsequential things which stopped me from worrying about her. She was obviously fine, bright and in no pain, and perfectly content with the prospect of having a nice stay in hospital to get the problem sorted out. I said I'd see them at lunchtime and she instantly said "Oh no. You don't need to come. Hubby will sort it all out just fine. We're having the gammon joint I cooked two days ago, and Joyce is coming to visit me" I sort of gasped a bit, but she wouldn't hear of perhaps having a bit of white fish instead, and Joyce was perfectly capable of coming to visit. At this point I gave up, which was a good thing, as further light chat revealed that for tea yesterday they'd had a lovely Porkpie she'd got from the butcher.


I'm thinking that I might like to live in Finistere ... you know ... underneath that bit the sticks out of France. It looks a lot like my heath, but it has two advantages. One ... the sea, and two ... I don't speak the language.
 
I had a lovely day cutting grass and grooming dogs :o)
 
 

Hugo