Blah.

Way too much crying and forgetting, then remembering and feeling bad for forgetting, even momentarily, that dad is still so sick. Now he can't have visitors because of some damned stomach bug that is tearing through the hospital. Even the ridiculously pathetic attempts to show him we love him aren't available to us, or him ( more importantly). The most exciting thing I could do for him this week was to buy him some baby wipes, whoopie, soft wipes for his poor sore bum.
We're actually not listening to the no visit rule anyway, we dash in with clean PJs and bottled water and even though we can't stay, we'll be damned if he is going to go through even one day without seeing, even fleetingly, a face that loves him. He is going to get a newspaper and pyjamas that smell of home and lovely clean things, not hospital and scary things.
I was asking questions at the hospital and found myself just feeling such frustration because they don't know him, they don't know how he was before he was ill and maybe they think he has always been a shuffling, crying not making much sense sort of man.
When I was nurse, did I take the time to imagine what the real people were like or did I just stride my way through each shift feeling superior or irritated by these people whose arses I had to wipe?
Life feels like a vacuum, where all the things that mattered before are so unimportant that I can't even remember what they are or what WAS important anymore. It feels like one of those movies where everything is normal and suddenly the camera gets rushed towards an object so fast you feel sick, everyday stuff happens and you get on with it and then quite out of nowhere you remember that this is really happening and the man who has always been there with the answers is truly poorly and really does need US to have the answers and we haven't got any. Bugger.