When I picked Robbie up from the station just after midnight, I could tell straight away that his legs must be hurting because he was walking very badly. He has been to loads of meetings recently, staying late at work then doing more work at home, I think sitting too long in the wrong sort of chairs is part of the problem. He insisted that he was OK and he chattered incessantly about trains and work so I couldn't get a word in about legs or anything else. He thinks that if he insists that everything is alright, it really will be alright, but deep down he knows he is lying to himself.
Needless to say I was tired by the time we got home and I went to bed leaving Robbie to potter around downstairs. He woke me when he came to bed because he was making a lot of groaning noises, but I didn't take too much notice and I went straight back to sleep. We had a dreadful night, it was like Kenny Everett meets Frankie Howerd, his legs were waving around as if they were possessed and there was a sound track of Ooohs, Ahhs and a crescendo of swear words. We were both exhausted this morning, I begged him to go to the doctors and to my surprise he agreed. They can't do much, but at least they can give him something stronger to deal with the pain.
No comments:
Post a Comment