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"The Arrival of the Bee Box" I ordered this, this clean wood box Square as a chair and almost too heavy to lift. I would say it was the coffin of a midget Or a square baby Were there not such a din in it. The box is locked, it is dangerous. I have to live with it overnight And I can't keep away from it. There are no windows, so I can't see what is in there. There is only a little grid, no exit. To Be Continued... |
Wounded, scarred Thursday Well, what a weekend of surprises. I suppose I should have felt it coming. A Friday of people repeatedly asking me, insisting on making me think, grilling me about it - "What have you got planned for the weekend?", by the end of the day I was sick of it, but I still hadn't given it any more thought. That afternoon saw me at the stove making provisions for the weekend, and the coming week - a big dish of cous cous with lamb and spices - in case we're hungry and need something quick and easy. A bowl of pasta with spinach, bacon and cream sauce - for the same reason. What was making me do this? I had no idea. Usually you can't get me near the kitchen, or I wander in to see what other people are whipping up. Friday we visited the cinema, and saw "Kiss or Kill", a fine Australian film ate a souvlaki from Lambs on Chaple St, and consumed too much Greek potato casserole. Fell into a food induced stupor at midnight. Saturday, sleep, haircut (Yes it's short now. It just sits on my shoulders and is all bouncy and light now) out for dinner with my parents. All is fine. Sleep 2am. 4:30am Wake up!, Wake up!, Wake up!. She wakes up. Listens for the voices which are telling her in her sleep to wake up N O W !!! No voices. Wide awake. Hmmm, tummy a bit sore. Oh god, must have been the fish from last night. Not a very good meal, all frozen, refried fish products at a dubious establishment. Find a bucket, sit on the toilet. Hang on it's not that. I'm not going to be sick, go to toilet. Hmmm, a little better. (you probably didn't need to know that) Well back to be then. Stand up. Oh FF UU CC KK. I'm pretty sure I know what's going on now. Yep, I know, been here done that, too much souvlaki - it's just a poo pain. So she runs a hot bath, slowly climbs in, curls up in a ball. Is in excruciating agony for the 25mins she stays in there. "Scott, Scott" calls out hopefully, around 5:10am, "Scott I'm in the bathroom, can you come here." waits, "Arrrghhhhh, yeah what?" noise from the deep, dark bedroom. He appears at the doorway, "What?" , "My tummy's sore, I think it could be my appendix.", he shakes his head a turns back for the bedroom - used to my habit of exaggerating and embellishing. "Really, I'm sure it is." Move slightly, the pain eases. "Oh, go back to bed, I should be alright. I'll be in in a minute.", Shakes his head, "Whatever" gumbles his way back to bed. Prise myself from the bath - with no inconsiderable pain, dry myself, find something to wear, put on shoes - I can hardly believe I managed all of this. "Scott you have to get up, you'll have to take me to the hospital, I'm sure it's my appendix." he seems a little more amenable now that I've actually made up my mind. The car journey was horrendous. Emergency was worse. Operation at 10am - after being admitted to emergency at 5:30am. To their credit, once the surgeon had made her assessment, I was in theatre within 20 minutes. They took it out. Sewed me up, and sent me down to ward 3E THEN the pain began. I wish they had left the sucker in there. I sit here now three or more days later, and I'm in more pain than I was Sunday morning. Well, as they said - "It had to come out".
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