They say Pride comes before a fall…
PapaCubb suffers from severe pride, it runs in the family. His Father died of Prostate Cancer because he was so proud he left it until he could no longer walk to see a doctor about it. This kind of Pride is the worst. With PapaCubb Pride means never admitting when he’s wrong, never asking for help (he’ll demand things be done but that’s commands not requests. If you are lucky enough to be asked to do something it must be done instantly), and never saying thank you.
“Thank You” are the two little words that make or break. PapaCubb is chairman of a voluntary group. He holds the power but is too disabled to do an awful lot. MamaCubb does the admin (although obviously she finds this difficult being partially sighted). Which leaves me to do the physical stuff. Stuff I really shouldn’t be doing in my state of health. Today has been gruelling. I was up at 07:00, out of the house at 08:30 and doing physical work (with frequent rest breaks and lunch) until 17:00. I am broken. So broken it is taking my last little bits of energy to write this before I take a handful of painkillers and allow myself to collapse. Every millimetre of me is in agony, every spoon for today, and possibly for the rest of the week, has been used. I am dreading the morning. I may have put my neck in spasm again (it feels like it), I have certainly pulled muscles. I need a bath / shower but can’t even contemplate turning on the water let alone getting in and out. I can barely hold me phone!
Did he say thank you? No. He had a go at me for expressing my pain saying I wasn’t the only one tired and hurting. Literally all he did was go up and down on his mobility scooter commanding people to do his bidding. I would be angry or upset but I don’t have the energy even for that!