Sick, Sick, Sick
Well, I've been living in the land of the sick for the past fortnight. First Ross, then me and now Cyril, the cat, who's just come back from the vet's and is looking incredibly peely-wally.
Ross went down with the local lurgy at the end of last week. He'd headed off to work on the Friday morning complaining of feeling tired and achey. Half an hour later as I was on my way to the Tube I met him shambling back having forgotten his Travel Card. He looked grey. As only a young person can, he was about to collect his Travel Card and go into work. I said "No" and he took to bed and remained there for the next two days looking very wan.
Well, I went into Florence Nightingale mode. And may I say that I look very fetching in that starched uniform with the high wimple and the lamp. Actually the worst thing about it was that I turned into my mother. Everything I said, I could hear my mother's voice from when I was a child. "Plenty of fluids, keep warm, rest, nourishing soups". Well, I suppose at least those count as helpful tape loops.
THE major problem looming was Monday. Monday 30 September was Ross's 20th birthday. Ever since he moved in, he's been talking about how he wanted to go and see Les Misérables. So, I bought us tickets to go see the show on Monday night. Saturday, Ross was still flaked out. We pulled out of going to see Victoria Wood with the two Jameses on Sunday - A shame since James II's contacts had come up with a free box in the Albert Hall.
Actually, we've missed out on a few things recently by dint of feeling under the weather - a party in South London, a pub quiz at work. I can't wait to start feeling on top of things again.
Luckily, Sunday afternoon, Ross began to revive and, by Monday, he was OK enough to sit through three hours of excellent West End musical. I'd been listening to the talking book of the novel and had listened to Fred's CDs of the show a few times on my multi-media PC at work, so I felt at home with the work and really enjoyed it. To say it's long is to acknowledge that the original book isn't exactly Peter Rabbit length. However, it's sensationally well produced and a delight to the eye and ear. Mind you given the themes of oppression and uprising, you wonder at it being the torch song musical of the mid-Thatcher era.
It was also a chance to catch up with Mario Frangoulis who I'd heard in Liverpool at the Fanfare for a New World concert some years back. He's got a lovely lyric voice and looks sensational - though apparently his boyfriend's even better looking (or at least was at the time of the concert). It's just not a strong enough voice for him to have made it in opera but in light lyric music theatre he's a wow!
Tuesday morning, Ross went back to work. I went in and came back again by early afternoon feeling like crap - a horrible sensation of all of the energy draining out through the soles of my feet leaving me walking with lead boots on.
Greater love hath no partner than he take care of his friend when he's ill. Actually, I make a very sour and crabby patient and Ross was very patient with me. All in all, the experience of the past few days has sorted a lot out between the two of us. He submitted quite easily to my looking after him and was quite at home looking after me. And he's not above chiding me for not relaxing and keeping quiet whilst I'm unwell. I fretted for a while that he wouldn't do any tidying round the house while I was unwell but no, he just took longer than I would to get round to doing it. I just have to remember that the reason that I do more than my fair share is because that's what I do. It's not exactly his fault if I beat him to it all the time.
Thursday, Ross headed off for North Lincolnshire and home. He's registered for his course now and is off acquiring the last of his possessions from his parents' house. So, I slept in my bed on my own for the first time since Sunday 28 July and I have to say that it felt very strange not to hear the breathing and not to have the warmth of another body close by and not to hold Ross's hand before going to sleep.
And just as I've started getting better, Cyril started throwing up and being out of sorts. So this morning it was off to the vet's with him, given that he's not eaten anything for three days now.
Anyhow, he came back from the vet's looking a little perkier having had some antibiotic shots and there on the answerphone was a message from Ross. "Hi, just ringing to see how you are. Love you."