10th February 2007 - Keep flying over that nest

I was very tired today. So tired I had that 'out of worldly' feeling, that strange observer feeling. Everything was slightly muffled, my thoughts, my reactions, my emotions. And everything was a half a beat slower than it should be. It was really quite pleasant.

I look round the day room. The cheery woman's mum was crying and rocking, ululating her grief life a North African tribeswoman - except a lot whiter. Tweedledum and tweedledee were slumping around the place. This shape of person really can slump when they are upright. Very odd. Kerry was bending over to put Gwen in her cardigan and her top rode up, and leggings down to reveal her bum crack and the horrible truth that a woman of her size was going commando.

Sally was lifting Nan in the standing hoist to get her from wheelchair to armchair. She'd got her up on her feet, Nan was hanging with the cradle hammock under her arms, arms outstretched, head lolling to oneside with her gaze downcast and resigned. A grotesque of a high tech crucification. Sally was told she could go on her break half way through this manouevre and said to me with a conspiratorial wink "Suppose I should finish off here first, but it's no likes Nan'll say summfin and my feet are gowping. Huvnae had a fag for 3 hours an aw!" And she left her, suspended, unable to sit, to stand, to move or speak. "In the olden days she'd huv been bedriden ye ken, they've come so far. Don't know how lucky they are". Even through my fog I know I can't let Nan dangle there and go and find Jilly. Jilly who is like the tweedles in 15 more years. She tells me it wouldn't have done her any harm - might even have been good for her. If she was in distress she would just go to sleep anyway. She did - however - finish off seating her back down.

Jinny is wandering, oh-oh'ing her way round the residents. When she gets to Stella, she tells her she's a fucking liar and to "fuck away off right to fuck". This turn of phrase rather appeals to me and I think I'll start using it and telling people that annoy me to "fuck away off to fuck" - so much more definite than a simple "Fuck off" - no room for confusion.

Over in another part of the room Bruce is wandering over to a table where Billy is sitting, sleeping with his hand inside his fly cupping himself for comfort. Bruce's trackie bottoms are half way down his arse, when he turns to face me I see his cock and balls, peeping like Kilroy over a wall, over the top of his trousers. Bruce smiles, he knows they're out for an airing, just doesn't care. Maybe he's wanting someone to say something, maybe he wants to shock. I smile back, slightly slowly, a beat behind time, through my foggy tiredness.

Dad has on a black shirt but I notice a few white ringed patches round his elbow. Then I notice the elbow tip glistening wet and realise his infected arm is leaking again and the rings are where it's leaked and dried and leaked and dried again. He had that shirt on the previous day and I wonder if the infection burst out yesterday and he's been tholing it since then. I go and find Jilly and tell her he needs a dressing but I stay for a further hour, she passes a couple of times and wheezes about being short staffed, she'' be there in a minute right after she's given Amy her cigarette and had her break.

Time went on and on, but because of my tiredness I didn't mind, I just sat, until it got so late I had to go as the evening meals were begining to be served and I can't cope with meal times. On my way out I saw one of the staff that I like and ask her to see to my Dad's arm - she looked aghast when I showed it to her and rushed off to get a bandage. Why the fuck did I not do that sooner.