 | ||
| Feeling fat, but not as content, as Roxanne here |
Funny how after a feverish, foreshortened sleep (I was writing a review until 1am, then buzzing through the night until wake-up time: 6am. Weather was hot, eyes felt like the lids were made of sandpaper) your appetite for breakfast cereal is insatiable.
I eat porridge with yogurt and cinnammon. It does not suffice. Three bowls of Crunchy Nut Cornflakes later I waddle from the table. If I had the energy for training, the high sugar overload would not be a problem, but I'm too weary to do anything, but cycle the mile or so to the care home where my godmother is incarcerated. She has dementia and keeps asking where her mummy and daddy are (she's 87), and whether the people 'in here' are going to kill her. She's stuck in a wheelchair and the connection problems in her brain have affected her eyes. She cannot see anything, but the actual eyeballs are fine. Her brain tells her she cannot see. Even after 4 years the carers have not get their head round this. When I arrive she's waiting for her breakfast. I feed her sugary porridge. She takes ages to eat one small bowl. Her appetite for everything is gone. However, when I take her out to the sunlit garden in wheelchair she smiles and chuckles at the sound of birdsong. I am chagrined. I have been worrying that my huge appetites will make my middle aged tummy big. How shallow.
No comments:
Post a Comment