Two birds with…

And to think I sent the pair of them to respite so I could have a day to myself while Dad was at the home.
I was stood there, calmly listening to Dad’s dismal tales of his terrible day, when the Smudgelet returned home.
By ambulance.
Well, by minibus actually.
But both injured…. during the last half hour of the day.

I’ve always said Football is a dangerous sport. Tiddles was in goal, apparently. But what he forgot is that it’s not a good idea to reach out with your hands towards the ball when someone else’s foot is headed in the same direction. We think the finger is fractured slightly, judging by the interesting colour and impressive swelling, not to mention the “ouch” factor of my brave little soldier. SO it’s cold compresses and Nurofen every three hours through the night, apparently. Oh bliss.

Smudgelet feels a little robbed of attention, of course. After all, his injury is just as impressive but less needful of nursing care. He was most indignant that I wouldn’t tell the NHS Direct nurse about it. He had a run in, not with a football boot but with a carrier bag. A carrier bag containing a bottle of Dr Pepper’s which has contributed a lovely black-eye-to-be and a small plastic container of sour fruits which has managed to inflict a nasty cut right on his eyelid. While I was trying to bath Tiddles, he came out of his bed five times at thirty second intervals to complain that his eye stings. I informed him that if he came out a sixth time, his bottom stinging might take his mind off it … and miraculously he recovered and fell instantly asleep! You know, I should have been a nurse 😀

3 thoughts on “Two birds with…

  1. yikes! As for your dad … sounds very very much like my grandmother … but my poor old mum, an only child, had to deal with her for years all by herself, as my grandfather basically let nan do anything she wanted because ‘she was ill’ … which she was … to a point! … she had the sweet little old lady thing down to a t … wasn’t until the last 5 years of her life when they were living in a village that my mother actually felt that other people realised how manipulative nan could actually be … the conflict between loving a parent and hating their self-absorbtion is very very hard to deal with … I will say that each person obviously has to deal with it in their own way BUT once I was old enough to start taking on duties (and as I lived closer than mum – who was 2 hours away and expected to drop everything at work and ‘just come!’) things changed a bit … I’m not my mum you see, and am perfectly capable of saying no to my grandmother, and meaning it … the last time we actually had an argument was the day she tried to pick one with me so she could put on her best ‘martyr’ expression – and I told her that if she wanted a fight we could have one but I’d win because I was younger and tougher … in the 8 years after that, until she died, we didn’t have another argument … and a lot more respect on both sides as a result …. as I said, everyone works out their own strategies … and I don’t know your grandfathers real state of health … but PLEASE don’t beat yourself up or feel guilty for wanting time to do things for yourself or by yourself – it’s NOT wrong and it doesn’t mean you love your dad any less :

  2. You’re right! I can just see you ticking off the cantankerous old men on the ward for being so wet!

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