Living my dream

By Mima

Here and there

This is what passes as fashion Chez Mima at the moment: minimum friction on the shingles rash/blisters; minimum inhibition.

Bean is being a sweetie. I'm sure she senses the illness and the sadness that I'm carrying. She's keeping close tabs on me. Sometimes a bit too close when she rubs her head on my rash. It's impossible to be stern with her because she's doing it out of love and concern. Good Nurse Bean.

#3 brother has rallied slightly; possibly as a result of intravenous fluids, and possibly thanks to antibiotics. He is out of ICU but not out of danger. There is talk of sepsis, of the potential for a catastrophic decline, and of waiting to see how his body responds. 

Both #1 and #2 brothers are en route for the hospital. One from Finland. One from Scotland. For very different reasons they need to sit with their little brother in case this is the last time they can do so.

I am there in spirit. I hope for my sake he lives because I want to have three brothers for all of the rest of my life. For his sake I hope he drifts away gently.

“I just sit where I'm put, composed
of stone and wishful thinking:
that the deity who kills for pleasure
will also heal,
that in the midst of your nightmare,
the final one, a kind lion
will come with bandages in her mouth
and the soft body of a woman,
and lick you clean of fever,
and pick your soul up gently by the nape of the neck
and caress you into darkness and paradise.”
― Margaret Atwood

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