the flu

You would have thought that having been through it myself would have immunised me against the sense of loss and despair that accompanies death, but the harsh reality that confronted me was that I was not. Even when you know that some ay it must come, nothing can really steel you against it when it finally does arrive.

Both Mum and Dad had caught the flu. As they had gotten older their formerly healthy and robust immune systems had slowly collapsed. Now, every year they seemed to come down with a succession of colds. There was a near continuous stream of antibiotics being prescribed, stored and swallowed, but this was the first time they had been hit by the proper flu. At first they thought they could ride it out together with a cocktail of antibiotics, honey-lemon tea and eucalyptus-infused steam. But when the muscle paralysis and delirium set in they knew that this was definitely worse than the standard colds they had grown used to riding out.

Albert, Sarah, Phillip and Beth took it in turns to look after them and try to convince them to seek proper treatment in hospital, but the combination of time and of being of that generation had hardened them into the belief that hospitals were for the weak. But they were stuck in their ways and wouldn’t receive the help they needed despite how awfully they must have felt, and so they stayed there in their small, dark, draughty cottage.