The weekend was spent feeling like an extra in those shows about hospitals. Without the dramatic We need insert big medical term in here STAT. More like Doctor Quinn Medicine woman, ala she's sleeping now. As you already know, the kid doesn't have the bird flu but rather a bad case of the flu. In her defence, she is very sick. Most of the weekend she was coughing , when she's wasn't retching from all the coughing. Add Mammy2's catching it and you have some idea what chez titch was like for the weekend. They were doing lines of neurofen, Vitamin C, lemsip, you name it, if it had can cause relief from colds, then they took it. Friday night was rough, Mammy2 couldn't sleep because of her coughing so much and as a result, I didn't get much sleep. The poor thing was dying. We were supposed to go visit on Saturday evening, and she was insisting she was grand despite not being able to talk at all. I put my food down and told them both they were not leaving the house.
I however needed a break from all the germs floating around so I took a stroll up town to get the kid's antidepressants. I'm pretty sure the chemist people think that the kid and Mammy2 don't exist and I just keep tanking myself up on anti-depressants for the crack like. There was a new lady behind the counter, a real Dublin mammy and the look on her face when she read out how much the pills cost. She looks at me to see if I am equally as shocked, but sure I've been buying them for the last 2 years so the shock factor is gone. "64 euros?? Is that right" I nod and hand over my card. She shakes her head and mutters something about the cost of meds these days. It was a lovely
spring day, and I felt like I was down the country. Well, if I ignored the loud people in Temple Bar that is. And took away the buildings. And there was more greenery. Okay, so it was nothing like being down the country, but I can dream!
Sunday morning and the kid barrels out of the bedroom with her phone in parts. I'm pretty sure its not supposed to be in parts. She claims its shit and crap and blah blah. I said when she was better this week, she could drop it up the Metor shop where the brother bought it. She muttered something about the boyf coming up and he would drop it up for her. Poor man, hasn't seen her all week and I have the feeling is about to get the boot and now he was to go and get her phone fixed. She's a bossy wee thing. Once Mammy2 surfaced, we battled ClearWater shopping centre.The gayest Tesco in Dublin. Lesbians in aisle 4, gay men stuck between the yoghurts and the milk. Its like Pride, every weekend. Without the flags obviously.
The shopping was done, the kid was happy. As it was the first time Mammy2 had left the house all weekend, she was wrecked afterwards and had to have a lie down. Which left me to cook dinner. Ordinarily I can manage, but I was a tad stressed and so by the time Mammy2 comes out, the smoke from the kitchen sets off the smoke alarm and I've fallen out with the brocoli. Which I am convinced its the devil's vegetable. Right up there with aubergines and courgettes. I called the kid. She was busy throwing up on the toilet. With the boyf being supportive and holding her hair back. Once she had finished not getting sick, she managed to sit down and eat dinner. I had a feeling it was like the boyf's last supper. I give him another week. Or so.
Beyond stressed, I had arranged to meet the mate R up town. Emotionally exhuasting is the only way I can describe the evenings. Its always fun hanging out with her, but sometimes she has stuff to deal with and she has her off days. This was one of them. I don't know how to deal with that.
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