Sorry about this post but I have to air it and I haven't had a sandwich yet. and I've been in for an hour:(

"Let yourself in" they said "Because we will be at the doc's".
Mum's feet have gone elephantine.

Two hours later I was sticking my key in the lock. No movement. Fiddled and wiggled with it, nope.
So waited for an hour on the rain smacked ice balcony for an hour.

They looked pale on arrival.
They'd forgotten to tell me they'd had the locks changed.
No problem I said and I meant it.

The doc was kind and prescribed penicillin for the infected foot...
The skin on her left foot has split and turned nasty. He would phone the diabetes clinic and make an appointment for her.

She was livid which was amazing on account of her being so weak. And there we all sat, her not eating and dad fussing around like an old woman.

I talked too much because I felt fearful. Then the phone went, it was the doc saying he'd like to give her another prescription and would she go back........Expletives flew through the tears.
"I'll go and get it" I said as cheerily as I could.
Dad of course wouldn't allow it he thought it'd be best if I sat with mum for a girl to girl natter.

We went out instead. And gassed. Mostly about boys.

But mum could barely walk so on entering our fav charity shop she sat down on the big chair by the door. This worried me. I waltzed around like an idiot picking up stuff to show her and then after gazing at idiotically priced handbags, found her a purse of questionable taste. She loved it.

As she got up she waddled so I allowed her to hang on to my arm and off we went to the next shop. She wasn't herself though, not in any way shape or form and I raged inside, well I would wouldn't I? Here was my heroine ashen faced, lumpy legged and quiet. No sir didin't like this one jot.
But I got the seal of approval on a preposterous red hat.
Then we headed home stopping in the showers every few yards so she could stand on one leg. Fuck this.

Home to dad grappling with the hoover and another phone call. This time from the hospital. My God I thought, her GP has acted quickly. Bless him. A kind gentle man with a name sounding like a medicine. Fluxman.

Anyway dad was continually asking the caller to 'repeat that please' so I offered to talk.
It was Sean from the Podiatry clinic and would your mum please come tomorrow to see Julie and Dr Valahajahaj or something.
"Yes of course" I said writing all this down.
Mum went ballistic.
"Why don't they leave me alone" she screamed.

Not much you can say to that.

The afternoon went painfully by with mum's dreadfully swollen legs resting on a pouffe. Dad's losing his hair and patience. And I was force fed Eccles cakes. "What about the cake I brought up ?" I said like a little brat.

Am I over reacting or am I normal? I admit to panicking any time the old dears fail their MOT....I rage because there's nothing I can do except talk.

Now I have a cracker, can't be arsed with sandwiches. And if I get away now I can watch 'In the Line of Fire' with the very gorgeous boy, Clinty Eastwood.