Life in progress


17. Scenes from the Second Seat on the Right

Sunday, September 17th, 1:00pm
Agatha and Kitty


Agatha: When we get home, I think I’ll need a cup of tea.

Kitty stares out the window silently.

Agatha: All this traveling on the bus is for the birds. I’m not as young as I used to be.

Kitty regards Agatha and looks back out the window.

Agatha: I see all these young people, the boys with their bottoms hanging out of their pants and the girls … (shakes her head) If I’d tried to go out in the things the girls wear these days, my mother would have sent me to my room without any dinner. But, times change. I suppose I’m just old-fashioned.

Kitty turns to Agatha and blinks.

Agatha: You’re such a good girl, aren’t you pet?

Kitty yawns.

Agatha: Where would I be without you?

Kitty: Probably sitting at home drinking tea instead of taking me out to buy new jeans.


Next stop: Monday, September 18th, 8:00am

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#SoCS – Volition

Gah! Why do I struggle so much to write something positive these days? To write something – anything – of my own volition? I swear, if it wasn’t for these prompts, I might not write at all for weeks on end. Which is strange, really, because when I start, it’s natural. It just goes. Before I go off on a tangent, I want to say thank you. To all of you who help me keep going with my prompts. Because though they may originate here, if it wasn’t for all of you reading and participating in them, I’d have no motivation to keep it up some weeks. Thank you. 🙂

I’m not going to get this posted on Saturday, but I’m happy I at least started it with a minute or two to spare. I’ve spent the day working and occasionally tending to my son Chris’s needs.  And talking to my mother on the phone about half a dozen times, allaying her fears that there really is nothing to worry about when she finds a note in her room that she wrote about something she was trying to remember to do three years ago. I swear sometimes it would be best to go through her room when she’s not there and empty it of every scrap of paper once a week. She’s always been a worrier. Now she finds something to worry about and with her dementia, she can discover it for the first time ten times in the space of an hour.

I actually tried not giving birth to an only child, as I am, so that only one child would be stuck looking after me as I age. As it turns out, my eldest will likely be stuck with both me and his two disabled brothers. Life just isn’t fair.

Gah! Why do I struggle so much to write something positive these days? (Yes, I copied that.)

So I was at the hospital with Alex the other day, and I was amazed at how many people I recognized from when he was there for the first eight months of his life. Not only that, there were so many of those people who recognized me. I must have made an impression. Or Alex did. He was admitted for a night after vomiting as he came out of anaesthesia and they were afraid that he may have aspirated. He spent the night with the nurses at the desk, apparently, hanging out and flirting. He didn’t want to leave the hospital when it was time to go. I remember one time he was in ICU after having a second surgery in the space of two days. He’d had sleep apnea and the first surgery wasn’t as successful as they’d hoped. Even after all that, he managed to wrap every nurse in the ICU around his little finger. I’ve never seen so many nurses drop what they were doing (in the bloody ICU!) to wave goodbye to him as they wheeled him on a stretcher out the door and back up to the ward where he would spend another few days recovering.

He gets it from his dad, I’m sure. I’m simply not that charming.

But soon we won’t have that particular hospital to go to anymore. It’s a children’s hospital, and Alex will turn seventeen in five weeks. I fear the adult hospital may not be as good.


Alex’s first day of school, Sept. 5, 2017.


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