burbubble

I´ll be 93 next week or at least that´s what they tell me. Sometimes I remember what age I am but to tell you the truth the days I forget are often better. I don´t know what day it was but I suppose it was a day like any other. I like my routine. Change scares me now. My home help arrived a little late and flustered. She apologised and got me up and out of the bed. My mother had already given me my breakfast in bed and I told my little helper so when she scrambled off to prepare it. I was sitting on the commode when she came back. “Any luck?” she asked. “No, same as usual,” I replied. “You had better give me more of that prune juice.” She helped me get dressed. And then handed me my zimmer frame. We walked unsteadily out to the living room. I sat into my cosy chair that had the shape of my arse moulded into it from years of sitting in front of the television. “Where´s Tom?” I asked her. “He´s at work.” she replied without making eye contact. She brought the breakfast tray out to the living room and helped me eat. I wasn´t hungry and told her so many times. She ignored me. Then it was tablet time. I took a blue one for constipation, a red one for depression and another one for luck. I think I had an asprin too but I´m not sure now. “Where´s Tom?” I asked. “He´s at work.” replied my sister. Then my sister sighed, “I´ve to get the chores done now, call me if you need anything.” She kissed the top of my head and left me alone with the politicians. I had to laugh at myself when I realised they were only on the television. I really thought there for a minute that they were in the room with me. I grabbed the zimmer frame and hobbled into the hallway. “Tom, are you there Tom?” I called. “It´s only me” came the voice of my daughter Nora, hoovering upstairs. Oh , that´s right I thought. Tom´s at work. I slowly hobbled into the living room. I was exhausted. I sat into the armchair and leaped out again. “Jesus Christ, Tom, you scared the life out of me.” I said feebly. Holding my zimmer frame with all my might. There in my armchair was the cheeky Tom. Although he looked terrible ( it must have been all that work) I was glad to see him.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 30th, 2008 at 12:50 pm and is filed under Time to go. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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