Forsaken

I got so sick that at one point, I nearly went to hospital. My centre of gravity went spinning out of control, and it felt like I was getting sucked down a plughole. I even said to Mr TC .. "I think I'm going to DIE."

I was freezing, no matter how many layers I put on. I would shiver and shake in my lonely bed, with no energy to even turn over. Then I would sweat so much that rivulets would form and criss-cross all over my body. My bed now smells like my uncles sheep farm. My sister came to help out, but unfortunately, the day she left I took a turn for the worse. So Mr TC had to mind the baby - all day, and all night. The day after his chemo ... he was sick. But I was more sick. We were hobbling around each other. All Hail the Broken People.

Sick sick sick. I had numerous crying sessions, especially when there was nobody to stroke my neck or bring me a cup of tea. I cried at the injustice of everything we have been facing, how my husbands face scared the shit out of me again, how poor Monkey and Tiger get their basic needs met but that's pretty much it. Monkey has had a Baptism of Fire in the way of television. He quite enjoys it, actually. (Baby Einstein, over and over and over again).

I kept having false starts of feeling better, but then the Bug of Doom would once again overtake my body and drag me down. I think I picked up a bug in the spa last week. My sister Tee reckons public spas are fine, as long as you wear one of those bucket head things that dogs wear to not bite their stitches. I will NEVER go into that spa again.

Tiger started crying that "I loved Monkey more than him". I told him that Mummies simply cannot love one child more than the other ... it's not allowed.

"And," I whispered, "Haven't you noticed that babies are a little bit annoying??"

He perked up immediately. "YES!" Then looks at his brother with pity. "Ohh, poor Monkey."

So now, finally, I am better. I am taking antibiotics, and I'm coming out of the fog.

Today, I managed to go grocery shopping. With a baby and a wonky shopping trolley. If one, ONE more person comes up to me and asks "Oh my God!!! How's Mr TC?" With that stupid, dumb, slapped arse look of terror and curiosity on their face ... well, I don't know exactly what I will say in that moment, but it will be a doozy. And probably offensive. I promise.

____

It will take me a while to catch up with everyone. My hair has two dreadlocks, there are clothes strewn across the whole house, and dust tumbleweeds sweeping across my wooden floorboards. Welcome the fuck back.