My Luck
She bought me a new shirt yesterday - from Fat Face - a shop I like - Extra large. This morning she told me that she had bought it to make up for how horrid she had been to me recently. I was pleased. I wanted to ask her to list the ways in which she had been horrid - but that would have been pushing my luck.

Reunion
I went to see Cardiff City play last saturday with an old friend and his father. We've all gone down with cup fever - which is incurable. We went for a drink afterwards. By 11 o'clock I couldn't drink any more and could barely stand so I made my excuses. I crossed the road where a taxi was waiting. I had thought earlier in the evening that I would be cautious about crossing the road when leaving the pub - after all that has happened - but I wasn't.

I got in the taxi next to the driver and as he pulled off I felt quesy. I have never thrown up in a taxi and hoped not to start now. As we chatted I settled down. After telling him my mum's address he asked if I had gone to the school in that area. I had. So had he. He asked my age. I told him. He was that age too. I asked his name. At first I was confused as I had a friend at school with the same name and it certainly wasn't him. Then I remembered him. At school his surname had been prefixed by "Fatty". He didn't remember me.
"I used to be quite big when I was at school," he said pointing to his belly as if it was small now.

Response
So I thought my last entry might create the smallest smidgeon of on-line interest. Maybe a touch of self righteous indignation - a few recriminations - maybe just a tadge of idle curiosity - but clearly the great readership are turning their (his??) back on my gnawing.

I did however get three responses in other ways than the comments section of this blog. The first was in a text form a new friend of mine. We were trying to make arrangements to meet and she added "What do U mean by gnawing?" to the end of her message. I was chuffed that she'd read it. When we met I suggested she sign up for a blog so she can make comment. She said she might.

The third response was from a very old friend. He hadn't read the blog but I told him on a night out. He called me a "Fucking hypocrite". I didn't agree but never got the chance to make my point. I think its OK to change your mind about things.

The second was a text from my son saying "What meat did you eat?"

Gnawing
Yesterday I did something that I last did 23 years ago. In fact it was 14th February 1985 when I did it. I was a 19 year old student in a large group of other male and female students. When I decided to stop doing it it I was convinced that morally and politically it was the right decision. Over the years - not doing this thing became not only a strong habit - but a big part of who I am. When I meet others who also don't do it - I have a sense of bonding with them which I enjoy. It makes me feel like I am part of a special minority. Also not doing it helps me to avoid some decisions that I find difficult.

People ask me now and again - especially when I first meet them - why I don't do it? The problem is - I really don't know any more. In the early years I spouted the familiar lines of the zealot. More recently I find myslef fumbling to give any coherent answer at all. For several years the idea of doing it again has been gnawing at me.

And for some reason -last night I did it.

Chugger
The doorbell rang about 8.30 last night. I didn't want to see anyone. My partner had come back from her first day at work after being in London for three weeks at her sons hospital bedside and I didn't want us to be interrupted. I went to the door expecting to see - either one of the two friends who ever call on the door - or in vain hope that the missed parcel note I had (Reginald Perrin DVD's bought on ebay) would be delivered by my neighbour. I didn't know the young man I saw. I was confused. The I saw him reach for an ID badge and 1.5 seconds into the beginning of his cheerful patter I found myself saying
"No".
And closing the door. As I closed it I heard the beginnings of his self satisfied arguing. As the door slammed I heard him GRRRRR!!!
"Who was it?" she asked as I returned to the living room.
"Chugger!" I said as I sat down.
"What do they think they're doing", she said, "Bothering people at all times of day".
"I know," I said.
"I've got a good mind to get the police on them," she said.
"I don't think its against the law to knock on people's doors, love. " I said
We both laughed.

Choir
I went to choir practice last night. I wasn't sure whether or not to go. My partner is still in London and her son is due to have an operation tommorow and maybe I shouldn't be doing things like that. Also - I had a headache - a strange sort of headache which felt like someone was stretching my scalp tight. I didn't tell her about it earlier on the phone after she told me that he was suffering with headaches.

Just before I left for choir I got a simultaneous call and text from my friend who I was due to meet at a meeting later. He wanted to change the venue to his house as he had been hit by a pushbike and knocked over badly today. He sounded upset. He was at pains to stress it was his fault.

"Are you OK? I asked, meaning are you badly injured.
"No", he said, "I'm really shaken".

I said I'd see him later and went to the choir. I listened to the Archers on the way and was uncomfortable about how Roy was blaming Brenda for his baby being premature. When I walked into the choir - the tutor came over to me and gave me lots of attention asking me about my partners son. I gave some info and lots of people were genuinely concerned and sympathetic. One woman put her hand on my knee and said I must have been through a lot.
"It's not me", I reacted, "I'm OK - Its her .... and him".

We started the vocal exercises and I really thought I had made a mistake coming. I couldn't allow myself to let go, to get into it. It felt wrong. I thought about walking out. Then gradually, I found myself grinning and joining in. So I stayed.

The Good Thing
I approached the newsagent as I usually do on a sunday morning - but this week not sure if it would be open. I'd seen the notice in the Spar last night and I suspected that things might have changed round here.
"I'm very sorry to hear about John", I said as I approached the counter with my Observer.
She took my two pound coins with her white gloved hands protecting against her skin condition. There was a pause during which I wondered if I had said the wrong thing.
"The good thing is," she said, "At least it didn't go to his bones."
"Had he been ill long?" I asked.
"No", she said. "He was only diagnosed in January."
"So quite quick then.."
"Yes," she said, "and I was there with him and he knew who I was and everything."
"Well take care then", I said as I left.

Treatments
I took the cat the the vets this morning. He has an over-active thyroid. He hissed in his cat box in the waiting area at the curious dogs who tried to sniff him. The vet took his blood and weighed him. He had put on 4 kg whihc was encouraging. I waited from the blood test results but the machine was faulty so they agreed to phone me. I paid the £51 with my credit card.

I was on tenterhooks because my partners son was due to have a major operation today. Texted from the vets. No news. I took the cat home, fed him and gave him his pill. Then I went to the hospital for my 3 monthly check for skin cancer. I didn't want to park on a meter because I might be kept in if there was something wrong. I drove a round the flats where my friend lives but no spaces. I found one in Brigstocke Rd and walked from there via Tesco Metro where I bought a Guardian and failed to buy a flapjack having to settle for a packet of McCoys - Flame-Grilled Steak flavour.

In the waiting room I noticed on the board that my consultant was leaving at 11.30 - the time of my appointment. I wondered who I would see. I couldn't help noticing an attractive female doctor with two black eyes. I wondered idly how she had got them. I decided that if it was her who saw me I wouldn't ask - best not to cause embarassment about a fictitious cover story. This would be hard for me as I like to chat. The maternal nurse who sees me every time welcomed me as if I were her favourite son. I bet she talks like that to all the boys.

After 5 successful answers in the guardian cryptic, my phone rang. My partner was distraught - the operation had been postponed until wednesday because surgeons had more urgent cases. I was gutted - the thought of her spending another 5 days sitting next her son's bed around the clock stopping him getting out of bed and taking whatever his uninhibited brain would throw at her made me feel sick.

Soon after she said "I'll call you later", I was called into see Black-eyes.
"Hello I'm Dr W. I don't usually look like this.", she said to my surprize.
"I don't imagine you do," I said. I continued to inhibit my urge to ask her about how she did it. She gave me a clean bill of mole health and left me to be photographed by the bearded hospital photographer. I'm not sure he got my best side.

SUNDAY

On Sunday 24th Feb we went out from lunch at the Bristol docks with some friends. It was the last day of half term and I was due to take my son back to his mother's at 5.30.
"Do you have any things you usually do on a sunday night before going back to work?", asked my friend over tea and cake.
"I'm not sure", I said" Maybe we'll see a film or something".
"I usually like to do something", he said. "To prolong the sense of being off work."


We finished with our friends about 4pm and it was too soon to set off to take my son back so I suggested dropping my partner(K) back home before getting some fuel and doing the journey. We agreed that I would pick up a DVD at Blockbusters on the way home. I would call her to discuss which one. I needed the loo - and worrying - as I do - about needing it for the whole journey I asked K to sit in the car with my son while I had my comfort break. On my way back out I thought - I'll just check the voice mail to make sure my son's mother hadn't left one of her messages asking me to have him later. The number 1571 didn't bring her voice. Instead that of the former step mum of K's son Z. I almost didn't listen to it - assuming she was asking us around to eat as she does sometimes. I remember the cold feeling in my stomach as I heard the words "car accident", "hospital" "London" "saturday night", "we're going now". I went outside and found her laughing with my son.

"Can you get out of the car a minute -there's been a message. "

I held her hand and lead her to the house. She was still smiling. I told her about the message saying her son had had a car accident and was in a London hospital. She swore several times. I told her to listen to the message and to phone the hospital. I would take my son home and we would take it from there.


Getting in the car I felt sick. I had a bad feeling about this one. If he had had the accident last night he must be unconcious or he would have called us. She was going immediately - it had serious written all over it. I told my son what was going on.

"Oh" he said," Can I have my MP3 player on?"

"Did you hear what I said", I repeated, "Z is in hospital - he's had a car accident."

"Yes I heard", he said.

A minute later, "Can you turn it up". I bit down and let him listen to his music leaving me alone with my fear.

As I dropped him off I told his mother. She said she was sorry. I phoned K. She had spoken to the hospital. He had a fractured skull. He had been hit by a car coming out of a pub. He was in intensive care.

"I'll take you there now", I said. "Pack some things"

She cried as I held her hand on the M4. We didn't speak much. We didn't have the stereo on. At one point she listened to her relaxation tape on her ipod and I listened to the Archers.


After three hours we arrived at the hospital. Someone whistled behind us as we walked up the main road. It was the step mother. We sort of hugged. She said she would see us later after she had eaten. We met K's friend at the gates who had arranged to give us a key to her house. She also gave K rescue remedy and some other homeopathic pills. It was a nice thought.

We couldn't find the intensive care unit in the refurbished building with a lack of signs. - then we found it. She rang the buzzer and after an age a nurse came an allowed us in - ushering us to the alcohol rub for our hands. I knew that this would soon be second nature. She asked K how long it was since she had seen her son. She struggled to remember but said it was a few months. The nurse warned us that we might not recognise him as he has badly swollen aroung the eyes and forehead. We were lead through an open ward full of unconcious people with drips and tubes and monitors. As we approached his bed we saw him. He looked bad - though not as bad as I had imagined in those seconds. He was unconcious with a ventilator tube in his mouth and a feeding tube in his nose. His eyes were swollen and closed like a boxers. There were white plugs in his nose. His forehead was bloody and had a dressing on it. He was recognisable to me as Z though it didn't seem like him. I don't think I have ever seen him asleep - let alone unconcious before.

After a while we were ushered into a room by a doctor. He was a consultant anaesthetist who was in charge of ICU on that shift. He gave us lots of information and I hung on his every word. He told us about Z being brought in on a helicopter. He said that he if you are going to injure the brain the front and the back are the least bad bits to hurt. He said that they would keep Z sedated while they waited for the swelling to stop. This could take 24 hours or more. He said that he wasn't out of the woods yet.

Later in the visitors room I chatted with his brother and his step mum. His father arrived from Ireland about 10.30. He kissed the step-mum and K - both his ex's. I stood up and offered him a hug awkwardly - he met it with a handshake but it was too late and I was committed to the hug. Stone paper scissors.

We left and drove to the house of the friend who had agreed to put us up. She focussed on navigating using my London A-Z. We let ourselves in and shuffled into the sofabed trying not to wake anyone. We had not eaten since 3pm in the cafe but it barely crossed my mind. She cried on my shoulder as we fell asleep.