Youth is wasted in the lung

Right now, in fact, my sister-in-law is something more of a worry to me than my grandad. When a 31-year-old marathon runner contracts pneumonia, people understandably ask what the hell is going on, and as you’d expect never really work out what the hell is in fact going on. It’s actually made her something of a celebrity on the ward, her comparative youth and fitness. Great.

It sounds like she’s turning around now, anyway. Family have of course been the last to know, because that’s how she tends to play it. According to K’s other sister she’s got an entire cupboard full of junk food and snacks from her friends who live nearby anyway, so I’m less worried than I would be if she were on her own.

If I were in that position, though (however hard work my parents have been in the past) I’d have told them first. And fully expected them (however much I’d have dreaded it) to descend on me like the w on the f. And bring junk food and snacks too, obviously: but more than that too.

But I have to accept that I’m not her, and I don’t play it like she does. I’m just me: worried old me. Maybe as a compromise I can send the cat over to keep her company in my stead. What’s the worst that could happen?

This entry was posted in body, family, fear, health, hope, illnesses, person, service. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Youth is wasted in the lung

  1. looby says:

    Hello JP, nice to catch up with you and I will now leave some utterly disjoined remarks.

    I enjoyed your account of the train journey and recognise that feeling of “oooh, these young people nowadays.”

    I’ve always Bretons quite polite — the Normans earlier this month had a certain brusqueness about them but it was just a change in manner, not any lack of politeness.

    I’ve also watched my Dad go downhill recently. He’s also isolating himself more and more. They know hardly anyone in Middlesbrough, where they are exiled, and is difficult to help.

    All the best to you both.

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