A bit of a moan

There are times when life just seems so damned unfair. Mrs BP suffers from an unusual condition which has never been fully diagnosed. The consultants have narrowed it down to one of two things, one a form of Parkinson's disease, the other a form of motor neuron disease. Either way, the condition is progressive and there is no treatment. The only time she has ever shown any sign of self pity was the occasion we visited King's College Hospital in London and the consultant there gave her the bad news. We sat in the car on leaving the hospital and she said, 'It's not going to go away, is it?'

Things have gradually got worse. It's nearly two years since she last took the dog for a walk, something she used to enjoy. She finds it impossible to walk up or down the drive without assistance. But she won't give in. She still likes to get down on her hands and knees in the garden, for example. And our garden is by no means flat, sloping in two different directions. Yesterday afternoon I glanced out of the window and saw the good lady crawling across the grass to find something by which to pull herself to her feet. Then later she fell as she was walking across the kitchen.

Like I said, life just seems so damned unfair at times. But then I remembered that things could be worse. A lot worse. There's my cousin stuck in a wheelchair and in pain with MS, and there's Tina dying slowly from a brain tumour. That's unfair.