When I was little, I used to have this picture on my wall of a mummy smilingly tucking in her little girl. I used to make my mum imitate it, partly because the position of the hands was funny (she was pressing down on the bed with all her fingertips) but mainly because I wanted to be in that picture. I don't know why suddenly I remember that. Let's see if it becomes evident by the end of the post.
Being sick in our house was never a good way to get attention. At best it drew impatience. Sickness was a bloody nuisance. Therefore, I developed a cast iron constitution and, on the rare occasions of sickness, withdrew like an animal. There's nothing life-threatening in the sicknesses I have, but it's all life-unenhancing. Until this year there had been little illness (apart from the migraine and depression but nobody's perfect). I'm not going to list all my ailments. They bore me, so for others they must be extremely dull. Suffice to say it feels like I'm a listed building with bits falling off it.
There will soon be another venture into the Belgian health system, and hopefully they will work out why I haven't been able to smell anything for the last couple of months. The only thing I really seem to be able to taste is raspberries. And strawberries. And apples. Fruit, really.
I had these pure saline things which I bought off the internet, to wash out my sinuses, but was reluctant to try them because it might be like when you jump in chlorinated water without holding your nose. However, it was gorgeous. The sensation of cool water going in and out of the chambers was delightful, and afterwards the whole front of my head felt clear.
Still don't know why I remembered that picture. I think I have to be a loving mummy to myself, and become both people in the picture. Not a bad thing to remember in general, I suppose.