Poor Us

We had plans for today. The social network thing. Junior present giving to friends and family, and all that. All friends will, no doubt, have the bag on, thinking we have purposely missed any meetup. sigh. Family know the score.

Well...joints have been BAD!! I know I joke about it, mainly so Junior doesn't worry, but sometimes it's hard to hide how p**d off I get with it. I was in tears today...first time, really. Couldn't get going until after dinner. My fault. I eased off the Ibuprofen, thinking it would be ok. Not!! So, do I go to the quacks and demand stronger medication. Last time I went was told that I'm too young for the stronger stuff, apparently. Was told....suffer now...or suffer more when you're older....if I get there!'

As if that's not enough. Mother rang up in tears. She sent a card to a sibling of mine. Said sibling has cut all contact with her for reasons only sibling understands. Anyway, sibling sent the card back, unopened. What a twat! No way to treat an 80 year old. Sibling could have just binned it, but just couldn't resist sticking the knife in by returning itI despair. So, I am left to deal with an 80 year old, missing all her kids, grandkids from sibling, her deceased hubby, her partner (who has been stuck in a care home against her wishes and slowly dying from dementia). She's sort of going through a second bereavement. She can still walk quicker than me, though!!

Not nice, at all. Seeing your mother cry, day after day. She's pissed off at being old and I'm pissed off with knackered joints!

Older siblings are outraged. I'll leave it to them to read the riot act. I'll just simmer away, joints permitting.