Horror, stovhot and sweaty, red lightsstove, an empty pot, oxygen off, thirsty and need to pee; my choice is visit John..
BUT wait, Where are my Glasses? I can’t see to find them. Not on the bed , that’s the only place, behind it. Did I draw myself twice ? I’m blind , and I don’t have a brain tumour. Whew I was worried.
I have devised an old pair with a rubber band and a something else, oh my ear. Still no glasses, walking back in my mind I finally get to the John and mournfully head in hands I look down and on the floor they lie. I really need to get them tightened.
A minor adjustment would have saved me, three hours of searching. And where was the call from hospice who I had called to help.
Good thing I found them by myself. When I get discovered and money flows in; none