Drats

John is away. He has had to go up north to sort out family stuff after 3 deaths.

I find it rather odd. Since his dad died 30 years ago, John is head of his clan. Meaning sisters, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles etc all turn him, the 'boss'.

Weird, yes?

Weirder still is when he calls me and I feel like I am talking to a complete stranger because my BBC English speaking John has become a Geordie speaker and sounds nothing like my John.

For you Americans and Canadians, this is like your Northern state TV newsreader, Peter Jennings for example, suddenly turning round and speaking Southern Hillbilly.

When he is away, meaning not here at weekends, it really does send it home to me how I might be quite stuffed on my own. I can't go and do a proper shop. So I have to make do with the odd bits I can get in the supermarket till he gets back next weekend.

I rarely let thoughts of the future impinge on me but every so often it does enter my mind that maybe he will get too old and infirm to help me or that I will get so much worse, it is progressive, that he wouldn't be able to anyway.

I would seriously rather die than a. be separated or b. end up in a nursing home, even if it was together. John feels the same.

I'd rather go out with a bang than a whimper.

But I don't think about it and live each day as it comes. It is the only way to live for anyone really. It is certainly the only way to live with a disease that causes 24/7 pain. You learn to really appreciate the less pain days and the bad pain days pass eventually.

And for now I'd rather hurt and still be living a good life, which I do, I don't let it stop me. The day it stops me is the day I get off the bus. Before the medicos and the law take my choices away.