Here are the two things the Brick Outhouse loves most in the world, even his car comes a long way third.
She has a malignant breast tumour but it's not too bad yet. The specialist wants to operate but he hasn't read her history or seen her yet. He wanted us to go in tomorrow morning at 7.30 but her legs don't work until 11.00 so it will be early next week. We'll listen to him and hopefully he'll listen to us and then it's up to Mum to make her own decision. When she told Aunt Pattie the news and said she wasn't sure about treatment, Aunt Pattie told her not to give up so easily.
She went into shock and I made her go back to bed. She wanted her wool doona on. Fine, so I go looking in the cupboard and can't find it. "It's on the third shelf in its bag." she says. I still can't find the bag. "That pink flowered bag in front." She means doona cover, stupid me, didn't switch on the mind-reading machine. She's still getting into bed, giving me instructions and trying to adjust pillows and crying. That woman can multi-task. I finally get everything smooth and in place, and she says, "I don't like the pattern on this side, can you turn it over?" I turn it over after threatening to fecking bury her in it.
I am really mad that our doctor had to go chasing the pathology report when it should have been sent to him yesterday. I also have to go back to the hospital and pick up the X-rays which they forgot to give me. I'm pissed that I got a salad ready this morning because I've been too tired to eat when I get home and the weather turned to icebergs and there's no way you can heat salad, add the ice-pack I throw on the spine and I'm not happy Jan.