When I cannot move.

“Coming,” Tony calls down the hallway.

“Arghhh, bugger,” I roll over a little but am stuck. I’ve now been laid up for three days with the most horrendous sciatica, moving in bed is a challenge, anything else needs careful planning and a lot of help.

“I told you to wait, you’re…” he starts

“… an impatient old sod?” I finish for him.

“Something like that,” he agrees.

“I need the loo,” I tell him the reason for calling.

“I should bring you a bucket,” he offers once again.

“If you help me get up I can hobble out there, I’m sure.” I hold out an arm.

“Impatient and stubborn.” He shakes his head and grabs my hand. “Now carefully,” he warns.

Pushing with one hand against the headboard, and pulling with Tony’s help with the other I gradually sit up. amidst a lot of grunting and moaning (though no gnashing of teeth) I manage to spin round enough to get my feet on the floor.

“Hang on,” Tony stoops down to put my flip flops on for me. He’s none too agile either and almost ends up on his butt, but slips my feet into the shoes.

“There,” he says standing up again with a grunt or two. “Two old gits we’ve become,” he laughs although the grain of truth within his words hits home.

“Now what?” he asks.

“I stand up and run down the hallway and out to the bathroom for a pee, before I wet myself.” sarcasm is often one of my defences.

“Yeah okay, no need..” he leaves his words to trail off as he leans into me to help me stand.

Step by painful step I gradually move from the bedroom to the hallway using the furniture and walls to keep me upright. Tony is right behind me, though if i fall i know we’ll both end up on the floor. The concentration makes sweat beads appear on my forehead, even though it’s the end of November and nowhere near warm enough for the weather to be the cause.

The rest of the journey is the same, and the return one as bad. I eventually make it back to bed and stretch out as best I can.

“Here,” Tony hands me a couple of painkillers which I dutifully swallow aith a gulp of water. “And roll over,”

“Mmmm,” I smile.

Tony waves the pain-relief gel at me and rolls his eyes in the way only he knows how. He sits on the edge of the bed ready to massage some into my side and back.

“For better or worse, in sickness and…” he mutters as he starts to rub it in making me groan, but not with pleasure.

“I know, but neither of us actually said those words,” I remind him.

“I know…” he replies pinching me. In my minds eye I can see him rolling his eyes again.

“Oi,” I grumble.

“Do you have to literally be so literal?” he asks, knowing that ‘literally’ is one of my least favourite words.

“In this position …” I start but don’t finish as Tony kisses me on top of my head.

“Now don’t move for a few minutes, let it soak in. and don’t pull your t-shirt down yet.” He orders.

“Yes doc,” I reply as I turn to face him. I smile and pull a face. “Thank you. You know how much I appreciate this? and that I love you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” He laughs so that I know he’s taking his turn with sarcasm. “It’s what we do isn’t it. When I can’t move you look after me, and now it’s my turn. Love you too, grumpy as you are. Now do you want a cuppa?”




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