I felt a little unwell this time. It surprised me for with the other two vaccines I’ve been fine. And even now my arm is tender. I took it easy. Sometimes it’s nice to submit in that way, though it’s rare, for me. I still went and drew in that cold, cold coffee shop.
He looked it up on Google. It’s been troubling me for some time now, and it’s unquenchable. Firstly, he thought it might be the tablets I take. What a bugger if that is the case. And then he told me this morning that it may be connected to my heart failure (‘It is heart failure’, she said). Agh, all these labels. Can’t one just be well? At least I can do something. I just need to drink and drink – unquenchable or not. It’s down to me – doctors, it seems, are unattainable, and when they are, you never hear back from them. So be it. My body is mine – I will take care of her.
I heard the laughter coming from their flat downstairs. Canned noise. Fake and too happy for the sadness that is contained in there. Or am I projecting a misery that isn’t present? Perhaps he is content in his dying.
Outside was cold as I walked. Three pairs of gloves kind of cold. The wind was a whisper from the East. It was quiet. A quiet cold. Only a few bodies huddled against the dark and chill scurried around corners. I like the stillness. Though there were birds. A robin hopping under a fence. A blackbird in song. There is always joy if you look hard enough.
A sorting out kind of a day. Clearing the decks in readiness for tomorrow.
