all bets are off
I was in the midst of writing a defiantly cheerful post about how I was going to have a lovely weekend when I made the mistake of calling home.
Gordon Bennet! My mother leaves for a two-week safari in Kenya today. Last night my father woke up bathed in sweat and suffering from palpitations and chest pain. After consulting NHS Direct an ambulance was called. My father has dangerously high blood pressure – the latest theory is that his medication gave him indigestion. Apparently he feels fine now, but (despite the fact my brother lives on the Isle) I’m on Dad-watch duty until her return.
Perhaps you’ll remember his previous mishaps? Last time she went on holiday his entire leg went septic:
and he was bedridden for six weeks, indeed it’s never truly healed. The time before that he contracted dysentery-like symptoms and passed out when he was halfway up a ladder, giving himself a black eye in the process and, upon waking, found himself in a pool of diarrhoea. One year he tripped on a path in the garden and fractured his ankle.
I’m not sure how many more of her holidays he will survive.