A week ago to the day I sat down to talk to (nag) my son and pretty much couldn’t get back up again. Oh c’mon, don’t be a wuss babe, said my dearly beloved. Quick stretch, that’s it, off ya go… and with a pat on the bum he saw me off to soccer.
Here’s where it gets really interesting. I was literally carried off the field (and it wasn’t even me playing). I could not walk, I could not put any weight on my feet. Fast track 3hrs and an ambulance had to take me to Emergency. Talk about unshaven legs and nanna knickers on the wrong day. I knew I should’ve listened to my mum.
I’m home now, I’m recovering. I can walk again and even pee by myself (hurray). But it’s been the longest one week my family has been through. Mr Foodie’s been a real trooper. He cooked, cleaned, ferried the kids back and forth and even squeezed in a bit of work. But don’t tell him I said that or he may pass the reins back to me real soon. (From what I understand there have also been a lot of treats, icecreams, canteen money etc that has changed hands in the past few days).
Anyway, husby says when I tell a story I’m like the dad in Kumars at No. 42. My stories go round in circles and by the end I forget what I wanted to say. So I’ll make it brief (stop shaking your head in disbelief).
I used to be a mocker of people with back trouble. Never again. I promise. I’ve killed the mocking bird within. And how is this post related to food? Because I want to name and thank every single one of you who’s looked after our family this week. For all the love and care and home cooked meals you brought over. I love you all and appreciate everything you’ve done for us.
Starting with all the soccer parents. For holding me under the arms and dragging me off the field. It isn’t easy to move a water buffalo, I know! For driving me home and doing the pizza run that night.
For Ben, our oldest and dearest friend in Sydney. He dropped his dinner halfway and rushed over to look after the babies while we went to hospital. Like our little guy says, Benster Master you’re the best!
For the ambulance officers. For being gentle and kind and introducing me to the green whistle because they couldn’t find veins to get the morphine in to.
For the doctors and nurses in the hospital. Your jobs can’t be easy and I have the deepest respect for you.
For my Sydney family, The Mevawallas, for all the visits and daal chawal kheema. You know how to make me smile 🙂
Nish for looking after 4 kids and folding my laundry (you’re welcome to do that once I recover too). Varu for Indian Chinese. Oh kill me with memories of home as the flavours explode on my ibuprofen-riddled tongue. IshPish for bringing your beautiful boy to me for cuddles.
The Littles, for beef stew and cups of tea. And to my potential daughter-in-law and her family for bringing me biryani and beautiful blue orchids that I will not share with anyone. You’re the only ones I can’t name otherwise the other girls may hatch an evil plan against you!!! But you know who you are.
And before I go, Chacha, for calling me a fat bastard and saying I need a trainer and need to lose some weight. Here’s his part of the text messages we exchanged. I may have a debilitating back issue but I hear there’s no cure for Foot in Mouth Disease! Thank you for the laughs.
“Your getting old papi- you need a trainer and lose some weight.
Light beer!
Just doctoring bitch! Would never call you a fat bastard otherwise.
Shit Dster was that you? Was a little buzzed thought I was talking to K – if so, many apologies !
F$&@ sorry. ”
What? Ok I waffled on a bit. Since I have nothing else to do all day I may go watch a couple of episodes of The Kumars. I’m outta here. Dee x
Ps: if I’ve forgotten anyone I’m blaming it on the cocktail of tablets I’m on. Darling Clara, I hope your extra week-long b’day celebrations have been fun. X
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