Two months ago my ex found out he had Cancer, I promised to stand by him and help him through it, it seems it was caught early and is treatable.
Fine so far? Well let me tell you a little bit about John, nothing too personal just enough to see why I am suffering.
He has and will always be one of life’s moaners. He throws tantrums if he wants to watch Football (English) and I am watching something else on the television then he storms off to watch it in his own home. If he is waiting for a bus or taxi, well? Here he is, at the bus top/venue – I got here a minute ago – where are you? Then it starts, this isn’t good enough, f’ me I’m paying for this, call this a service……… and on and on.
I’m starting with this morning as its a disturbing one – even for him. Now he always does things and accuses me of them. I can argue ’til I am in tears but it doesn’t stop, it’s still my fault. Anyway back to six thirty this a.m. I awoke to find him watching TV in my room, he was engrossed in a programme about fishing but made sure I was awake, how kind. He then said he would make a cup of tea and as he stood up he changed the channel. I took no notice, my God even the birds outside hadn’t left their nests yet, my eyes were just about open this is what followed
John: Oh I can’t watch the GrandPrix then?
John: You turned the TV over.
Me: Ummm – you have the control?
John: No I don’t,
I stand up go over to his chair and grab the remote, press the return to last channel button, was the GrandPrix on? No another channel with Robson sodding, happy smiling Greene in the Carribean catching more fish.
Me: Well this doesn’t look like the GrandPrix?
John: Well I was watching it, you don’t want me to watch it, I’m ill, you don’t care, on and on and on. And ON
Anyway, he still insists I changed the channels and keeps threatening to go back to his own home (forgot to mention his television broke down last weekend and he’s waiting for it to be picked up and repaired) to listen to it on the Radio. The Lummox is still sat there, denying he did anything. I’m too tired too argue and too fed up to care. I hope Lewis Hamilton comes flying out of the television screen and lands his racing car right in Johns’ lap – hang on its my TV!
Now I may not write every day, I may be pushed to write more than once a day, I hope I am the only one who lives with a Despotic Cancer Patient or anyone who acts like a brat when they are ill. I’m not asking for him to act like a Saint, he never was one. All I want is for him to take his finger out of his backside and stop swivelling and making the world revolve about him!