Sorry for the weird blog post yesterday.
Fife’s just left the flat. Helen’s mum watched the kids last night, but he had to get up early so that he get home and pack them off to school. He said he’ll be back later. It’s stupid early, but I can’t go back to sleep.
Fife came straight over yesterday. PoshPhD left to go to a meeting but came back around the same time Fife arrived, and let him into the flat. He put the kettle on, came into the lounge, sat on the floor and just held me. He kissed me on the head and let me cry. He didn’t even try to ask what was wrong. He asked PoshPhD to fix me a cup of tea exactly how I like it: light milk, two sugars. Then he asked PoshPhD to leave us alone. As I sat with my hands around the mug, he let me cry until I didn’t have any tears left. Then he finally asked what was wrong.
I went into work yesterday, excited to tell Loraine about the possible MNM sale, and looking forward to lunch with LadyBohemia. I’d been at my desk for a bout thirty minutes when I got a text from Loraine. She and Philip had left early that morning because they were having a coffee breakfast with some friends, and she said that her mother hadn’t come down for breakfast. Loraine let her have a lie-in, but she wanted to know if could I go up and check on her mum. See if she needed a cup of tea or anything.
I put the egg and crest sandwiches I brought on the kitchen counter as I made my way into the house. Up stairs, I knocked on LadyBohemia’s door and she didn’t answer. The door to the bathroom was open, so she wasn’t in there. And the chair lift was at the top of the stairs so she hadn’t come down and gone out. I pushed open the bedroom door, calling her name as I came in. I didn’t want to catch her undressed or anything. The blinds were drawn in her room and the lights were off, but when I came into the room I could see immediately something was wrong.
I didn’t need to go up to LadyBohemia. I could tell.
I ran downstairs and rang 999 then Loraine. I told her to come home immediately. I stood outside waiting, and when she and Philip came up the walk they could tell by the look on my face. Shortly after they went into the house the paramedics arrived. LadyBohemia had had a stroke in the night. She would have been asleep and didn’t feel a thing.
After I finished telling Fife the story, he said I needed to eat, so he got up to make me a sandwich. After about ten minutes, I asked what was wrong. It should take that long to fix a sandwich. He said he wasn’t sure what to do, I only had the fillings for an egg and crest.
I can’t believe I rushed out on her the day before. I should have never brushed LadyBohemia off. She wanted to have lunch and I was too busy. I’ll never do that again. Fife stayed the afternoon, but suggested that I call home. I called mum at work, and they let her take the afternoon off to talk to me. While I talked to mum, Fife went out and got a few things. Mum and I talked about gran. By the time I got off the phone I was even more upset. Fife came back to the flat with a cheap DVD player, some films, chocolate ice cream and some food for dinner. We spent the rest of the day watching silly films and eating junk food.
Last night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, Fife said that he was sorry we fought. And he was even sorrier that he hadn’t called. He was angry, but none of that is important now. We’re together and that’s all that matters.