Ill

Falling apart today, definitely. I spoke to her last night, dreamt about her when I slept and have spent all morning wishing I was with her again. The worst thing is, or possibly the reason for all this self-pity, is that I'm ill at the moment. She said on the phone "You always were an awful patient and now I can't stop remembering how sweet she always was whenever I was ill, despite me being a typical, can't-take-pain-or-illness-to-save-my-life, bloke. She'd go out and get medicines galore, fruit, anything and everything to make me well again.

There was one time in particular when I'd left half the skin on my leg on a football field after a particularly ill-judged slide tackle when the ground was so frozen it was like sliding along gravel. Now that may sound like a fairly lame injury, just like that's a fairly lame pun, however, it was almost like a burns wound in that there was no skin protecting my throbbing, pink flesh so that it hurt like hell when my leg touched anything and basically meant I couldn't walk properly for about two days. After I'd finally managed to limp home she helped me wash my leg and change my bandages for the next couple of days while I lay there, on my side, trying not to touch anything. She did absolutely everything for me.

I don't care if it makes me unhappy and means I'm falling apart today. The way she was with me for those few days when I couldn't move and she took care of me without a single thought for herself or anyone else and never once mentioned how much I was no doubt putting her out ' those are the things I want to remember.