Pride

4 Apr

Image“I’d like to go to the opticians again, these specs are useless” mother

“Its your eyeballs that are knackered Mam” son

“Yes, but if I could only get rid of the mist, its so misty” mother

“Its a clear sunny day” son

“Don’t be silly” mother

Age related, wet macular degeneration. It has taken my mother’s eyesight in small leaps as blood vessels burst and retinas detached; in bounds as helpful Opthalmologists spot welded the damaged parts back in place, causing yet more blind spots. It has played tricks with her perception; “Why is there a boot on the wall?” and it has made a tough old bastard very vulnerable. It has supported various opticians income as, annually, they fitted her with very expensive and totally useless varifocals – when they knew she had only very limited peripheral vision.

This woman survived four years in a Japanese prisoner of war camp as a teenager, chopping wood and digging graves to survive. She is of a stoic tradition which will disappear when the last of her generation passes on. Women like her possess an indomitable spirit worthy of the hardest, toughest warrior. But cellular degeneration, old age, too many fags over the years and, probably a truly crap diet as a youngster, threw her a curve ball to which she was not able to adapt.

If she had been weaker, she might have accepted all the help we tried to arrange, instead of telling the cleaner “You can sod off, I don’t like your attitude”, or squirrelling all the ready meals in a deep freeze “for a special occasion”. Like eating.

As the gangster says to Butch in Pulp Fiction “Its your pride fucking with you”. I know, I’m her son.

 

 

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