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The often dubious, politically incorrect and mainly humorous musings of Ms Jane Turley, (Ex) Housewife Extraordinaire.

An impromptu rant!

What a few days I’m having! Last weekend Master Ben got a tummy bug and it was full scale explosions from either end. Lovely. Still Master Ben is a little soldier and as strong as an ox and by Wednesday he was back at school and playing tennis. He is so good when he is ill; always hitting the target and never hitting the floor, sheets and, more importantly, me.

Unlike Master Jacob who is like ..the world’s worst patient. Well except for Mr T, from whom Master Jacob has inherited “Acute Melancholic Manflu & Every Other Disease Known to Man Syndrome” For example, a couple of weeks a ago Mr T did something to his leg/hip. Yep, I came home from tennis one evening and he was looking like a geriatric Long John Silver. Indeed his protestations were so bad I thought he’d ripped open his war wound from The Somme or at the very least developed a small case of elephantitis. So it was heated pads, muscle rubs, pain relief etc etc…. followed by a night of sheer hell. Normally Mr T sleeps like a log. I mean you’d been hard pressed to tell the difference between a comatosed whale and Mr T. (Apart from the snoring obviously.)

Well let me tell you that sleeping next to a 6ft 6 hypochondriac is no fun. Yep, for years I’ve been begging for a divorce just so I can marry Danny Devito and get a decent night’s sleep but Mr T still won’t agree. Damn.

Anyway, after a night of sheer hell of being tossed around like the Titanic whilst listening to noises that sounded like what can only be compared to the opening sequence of Saving Private Ryan I was at the end of my tether. Worse, Mr T has the habit of delaying going to the doctors for as long as possible which is incredibly frustrating. Yep, he’s one of those folks who wonder why they’re being given the last rites when they’ve delayed their appointment for a year. So after another bout of “I can’t walk, bend, walk, brush my hair, put my socks/pants /thermals on..blah, blah, blah, blah, blah …” I finally blew my top;

“You are going to see Mr Price or I am marrying Danny Devito!”

Now Mr Price is some sort of body specialist, (no idea what – far too complicated medical terminology for me) who used to represent England at Judo and knows his stuff. I know him through my tennis contacts and he has helped me in sorting out orthotics for Jacob’s feet. Therefore, although it was a Saturday morning I decided to gave him a ring.. .

“Help me, help me Mr Price. I can’t stand anymore of Mr T’s moaning!! Save me from another night of hell!”

“Will 10.30 be okay Mrs T?”

“I love you, I love you, I love you!! I’ll be there!”

So after manoeuvring Mr T into my car (not easy I can tell you) and just about remaining within the speed limit we got to Mr Price’s where he conducted some weird and wonderful manipulations with Mr T. I mean it was intimate! Hugging, cavorting, bending..more hugging…God, I was embarrassed. At one point, I had to cough just to remind them I was there…..

Well…after 3 sessions Mr T is a good as he ever was and his war wound is healing nicely. Praise the Lord!!

Hmm….this was supposed to about Master Jacob who is driving me nuts this morning as he’s been ill with the sick bug all weekend. Yes, I know he’s poorly but come on not being able to take the lid of your bottle of Lucozade is pushing your luck a bit!

Just on a finishing note…when I’m ill it’s the same old story. I end up in my car on the school run feeling as sick as a dog and hoping I don’t break wind.

Because you know it can be quite embarrassing if you “follow through” in the school playground…….

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5 responses

  1. I hope everyone is recovered and in the pink of health in the T household. Yes all men are horrible with pain – that is why nature gave us the labour pains.

  2. Weighing rather late with my two-bits, but oh so so true. When men are sick, it is so 'end of the world', though there is this to be said about hillgranddad, he does see the doc and is a model patient!

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