Monday, December 06, 2010

Being there

Welcome to the tropical paradise which is my father's bungalow in St Albans.   He is ill at the moment, and so the family didn't think he should be alone.  My mother (his ex-wife) stayed last week, my sister came over the weekend, and I arrived yesterday.

It's -5 in the shade outside, I awoke to a hoar frost which had edged the leaves with a sparkling white fringe.  So it came as a bit of a shock last night to step across the threshold and be hit by a wall of heat, like Hawaii in summertime.

He started off with a chest infection, moved to a possible bladder infection and then revealed a badly infected toe on Friday night, something he had apparently been nursing for weeks without telling anyone.  My sister operated on him over the weekend and no, Doctor, she doesn't have any medical qualifications.

He seems to be feeling better than he did last week, but is terribly terribly weak... only just about managing to make it to his chair this morning. 

I must admit I was anxious about coming.  I love my father, and he's a kind, generous and loving man, but he is also addicted to the Daily Telegraph (and insists on reading great chunks of it out), plays the tv at 90 decibels (and shouts at it) and is normally quite exercised about various tings in the news.  The Labour government really used to get him going; now he mostly reserves his ire for the EU. 

I haven't done a lot of work today, although I do have a broadband connection.  It is pretty hard to keep my concentration up under the current conditions, not least because I have to go somewhere to try to find some oxygen every so often.  Still, the doctor came, and prescribed stiffer drugs for the infection, which I fetched from the Chemists, taking pictures of the amazing frost along the way.

He's eaten a little dinner, but is mostly not very hungry.  I hope he will feel better tomorrow.

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