It is going to take another two weeks, at least, to put all of Mr Bent’s books back onto the shelves. I managed to free the couch and rid the chairs and the dinner table of books. I cleared a path by piling some books and made it look a little like a racetrack. Hopefully he won’t come back in a wheelchair, he won’t be able to get up the stairs and my path might not be wide enough.
Mum and I went to see Mr Bent last night. Dad said he was tired, too tired to go. I give him an evil look. We’re still not on speaking terms, and from the looks of it, it’s going to take some time before we will be. Mum had bought a lovely bouquet of flowers and a get-well card with frogs on it. I brought Mr Bent two of his books. I think he really appreciated it. One of them had a picture of a heart on it and a very intelligent looking title with difficult latin words. The other one was called Sleepy Hollow. He gave a smile when I handed them to him. Mum put the flowers in a vase by his bed and hung up the card. It looked a bit sad; just the one card over his bed. It kind of fitted Mr Bent’s current state of being.
Poor Mr Bent looked really pale and didn’t really say a lot. The doctor told us that he had had a heart attack. He seemed all right (for) now, but he was weak and, just in case, they took some bloodsamples to check for other things. The doctor used all these difficult medical terms and it was kind of hard for me to follow. From the looks on Mum’s face I could tell she had no idea what he was going on about either, she just kept nodding and saying,’uhu, mmm, yes.’ She was not able to fool me, but she was able to fool a person who had finished university and has been working with people for years and years. Maybe he just didn’t care whether she understood or not.
I don’t know if you have ever noticed or even been to a hospital (this was my first time, too), but there is something in hospitals that make you want to whisper. All visitors do it for some reason. The problem with a lot of these visitors is that they whisper louder than they talk – Mum is one of those. I could literally write down every word the people next to us were saying even though they were ‘whispering’. I am not going to do it, though; it doesn’t seem appropriate.
Mum asked Mr Bent a lot of questions about his health and about who was going to take care of him when he got home. Mum was more or less trying to hint that I was coming over every day after school to help out a bit. I wouldn’t mind doing that. I think I’d enjoy it; spending more time with Mr Bent. As I said before, he is more or less the father I have never had and I am on speaking terms with him (this is where I wanted to put in a smiley face).
When we left I gave him a big hug, which I normally don’t do, because I am not the hugging type. I have got this enormous comfort zone around me. Mr Bent, who is also not the hugging type, really needed one and I think I needed it too this time. If he’s not home tomorrow, we’ll visit him again. Mum also offered to give him a ride home when he’s released from hospital. Mr Bent was very pleased with our visit and all our help. Maybe this cloud has a silver lining; I think Mr Bent found out that he does need other people. It might just help him with his social skills.
As Internet is still down I will not be able to post this blog just yet. If Dad hasn’t fixed the (nasty word) thing tomorrow, I will definitely have a look at it myself no matter what he says. How can we live like this! It feels like we’re living in the 80’s. Or at least, I think that’s what the 80’s would have been like. So, I would love to say,’ See me tomorrow,’ I’m just not sure if you’ll see me tomorrow. See me later.