Second Helpings

Home Alone

I have complained about having too much to cope with at this time of year, which most of you know already isn't my favourite. The prospect of attending three school nativity plays, entertaining friends, wrapping gifts and last minute shopping along with the usual humdrum felt almost too much to contend with. Knowing humbug day would once more mean cooking for ten, kids everywhere, sprouts and pots up to the ceiling and no chance of relaxing has made me feel grumpier than ever. I'm no spring chicken and after thirty two years of providing a family Christmas I've been feeling it's about time someone else did it and allowed me a day of leisure for a change.

I have frequently complained about my lack of space and freedom. The idea of spending an evening alone with control over the remote, the choice of eating and sleeping when I want to and no one dictating or questioning my actions has always seemed like a dream. But as Shirley Valentine discovered in one of my all time favourite films, nothing is ever like you imagined it to be.

This morning I woke early to face a busy day of visitors, going to see Angel in her nativity play at school and entertaining friends this evening. Hubby awoke to a swollen face which literally expanded by the minute and there was nothing to do but arrange for friends to take him to the doctors. There was no way he could see to drive and I was left feeling guilty that I no longer feel confident behind the wheel of a car. The doctor sent him to hospital where he is now on an anti biotic drip and undergoing tests. Hence, no nativities, no shopping, no visits from friends and no chance of concentrating on anything.

We don't know if it's an infection, a virus, an allergy or any details, but a scan has ruled out anything serious in his major organs. I've always said it's sad the only time I get to spend alone is when he's in hospital, but I wouldn't wish this on anyone. Our son dropped by earlier to check I was okay and we shared a bottle of wine and had an uninterrupted chat for a change. The fact he's worried about his poor old Mum being on her own made me realise I'm maybe a lot more vulnerable and less independent than I thought.

He'll be okay I'm sure. Whatever it is, the hospital will sort him out and he'll soon be back in his chair relating tales of his strange swelling and all the details of what he's been through. But much as I criticise and complain about him, I feel sort of lost and lonely right now and don't think I'm going to sleep too well. Better go have another nightcap and see what tomorrow brings. I have frequently advised others to never take anything for granted and to take one day at a time. Now I need to take my own advice on board.