Friday, 16 August 2013

I've gone off...

the blogging boil.
All of a sudden my posts seem...
well not to put too fine a point on it...

This week has been a strange one,
Tuesday, I took a much loved elderly neighbour
to have his eye injection.
The 'specialist' I use the term loosely,
was so busy telling the nurse about her wonderful
holiday that she without a care just
wanged the injection into his eye...


'How many fingers am I holding up?'
'I can't even see your hand, let alone fingers!
he replied.
More drops went into his eye...
'Now how many?'
She then proceeded to put her finger
over the eye and rub it in a circular motion.

To disperse the fluid into the place it was
intended for?

What do I know?  I'm just an ordinary woman,
not one swathed head to toe in fabric
with only my face showing!

Isn't Assad an eye specialist as well?

Of dozens and dozens of eye injections this
was by far the most painful.
My lovely man is a sprightly eighty three
with a seriously ill wife at home.

Then on Wednesday it was my birthday.

Yesterday I went up to Kings College
Hospital with a friend whose husband had just had
an operation to drain a bleed in his head.

Kings College Hospital is where 
Simon was given the news that he only had
months to live.
So for me it was going to be a toughy.
No worries...
I'm a big toughy- teflon-toffo!

On the train a young woman half a carriage away
answered her phone,
as I looked, all the while thinking
bloody phones!
I watched as she dissoved into tears.
Leaving my friend, I set off down the carriage
where people sat reading their papers,
completely unconcerned.

Touching her lightly on the shoulder
I asked if she needed some help.
She said through the tears that
the call had been from the hospital to
say get there as quick as you can
your husband is dying.
We were on a train with eight stops to go!
I hugged her as she told me about his brain tumour,
which she said was a secondary cancer.
The words poured out as she talked me through the ghastly tale.
Her one year old son had the day before been running a high
temperature and she wanted to get home to him.

'If only they'd told me my husband was dying, I would have stayed!'

Still our fellow travellers carried on trying it seemed, not to notice.

'As soon as we reach the station, give me your coffee and run.'

That was the last I saw of her.

That beautiful young woman with her whole life
in front of her, has been on my mind ever since...
was she on time to be with him when he died?

As my friend and I walked out of the station,
both of us wondering what to expect with her husband:
I got a tap on the shoulder.

'You were meant to be in that carriage today
for that lovely young woman!'

That lady was also going to see her husband in neuro-critical care.

Four women,
four different ages and times.


  1. A beautiful post. It is important to step out of the bubble we all wander around in a touch the lives of others when they need it.

  2. LL, I am so glad you took the time to sit down and write that story. It is powerful. You are all heart helping so many people this week. Sending a big hug from Cairns (just for you) to round off your week and say a belated Happy Birthday x

  3. Your posts are never trite Linda and I really miss you when you don't post regularly. I was so moved by this post, a tough journey for you for those type of memories never fade and it never becomes easier to visit a place where they began. You were meant to be on that train, I do believe that and you would have definitely have helped that young woman. I find it extremely sad in this day and age that people ignore others in distress, a very sad state of affairs indeed. A belated happy birthday to you Linda.

  4. Happy clicketty clickth Linda! I think many of us could do with you around for when we can't put a brave face on things - so please keep on blogging and making people smile.
    I was talking to a friend recently who had found himself in the middle of town in great pain after the death of his son when he suddenly realised that many of the blank faced people around him were probably busy covering up their own sadness and it wasn't just him. This is true, so perhaps we shouldn't be too hard on the people burying their heads in their newspapers. We aren't all as brave as you.

  5. Your blog and posts always move me, either to tears of laughter or tears of emotion. I too would miss you so much if you ever stopped. I really admire you for being so spontaneous. Sometimes I don't reach out to others more out of a kind of shyness than because I don't want to. I wish I had your nerve and your truly kind heart! X

  6. Oh wow. Thank goodness there are still people like you in this world. Callous woman consultant. Have had a similar experience regretfully keep posting LL.

  7. Dear LL, Even your 'trite' is a delight, so please don't stop. You are a warm, spontaneous and compassionate woman.

    Are there any houses for sale near you? ;-)

  8. I was so touched by this- sometimes you’re just put in that place at that time.

    I've been both the consoler and consolee in similar circumstances and I can only say that I will never ever forget the act of simple human kindness that was shown to me; it lightened my way in times of darkness for many years to follow.

    Bless you xx

  9. Goodness me - I'm teary. What a lovely thing you did there -something that I'm sure the young woman will always remember x Jane

  10. Thank you girls, for all the lovely comments. Oooh... I going to be sexiest now and say, isn't it funny no men have commented. I wonder why? I just so love the camaraderie of the ancient order of womanhood.


    1. Mr N offered this thought on the subject - that it is much more acceptable and reassuring for an unknown woman to offer help in such circumstances than for a man to do so.

    2. Yes, Mr N, I completely agree... although I'm not sure why?


  11. Just catching up on your posts Linda... All I can say is thank goodness you were on the train to lend some support to that poor girl. Well done x

    1. The twists and turns our lives take never cease to amaze me. I am blessed with having a 'look on the bright side' view of life.

      That lovely young woman still preys on my mind. I will never forget her.