Innsmouth

I am cursed.

Twenty years or so ago, I rented this flat near the university. It was a small cosy affair with the bed right in the middle of the room, a desk close by and a little kitchen. One night, when I was half asleep, I heard a noise coming from above, opened my eyes to see a crack forming in the ceiling and had just the time to grab a big heavy tome (fiscal law, I think) to protect my head while the ceiling descended upon me in one big piece.

That one was just bad luck, or so I said to myself then.

Ten years or so ago, I rented an apartment a few hundreds yards from my old flat. It was an old building, not really a nice place, but I wasn't there often and there was a lot of parking space nearby, thanks to the uni, so it was fine for a time.

A strange and somewhat unpleasant smell had been lingering in my toilet and bathroom for a few weeks, but I thought nothing of it: stranger things, be it sounds or odours had already come out of the common technical space, when it was not crawling things. It so appeared that my neighbour had been sent to a nursing home for a few months and had just come back to discover that the main toilet duct, common for all tenants on this side of the building, had broken in the floor between her apartment and mine. It turned out that she had fully carpeted her place. There were four apartments above hers...

In the same apartment, I came back one day after a few months abroad to discover that my kitchen's ceiling was now on the floor. And the stove. And the sinks. And the washing machine. Then I had enough of it.

My place by the sea is a nice apartment on the seaside, with a glorious view, a lot of space and the building has been well maintained and its front was in the process of being renovated when I got it. While the front was being worked on, most people took to their winter home and the concierge suffered from a heart attack. So my apartment was left unsupervised for a few months. And a leak three floors up had the time to go to the floor below mine. Now, the hall is mushroom field, the parquet is ruined, and I am still waiting to know whether or not the heating system set in the flooded technical space is still certified.

For a few years now, I have been renting the Archi's old place. It is a nice apartment. A garage. A concierge (crucial, as she can pick up my deliveries when I am not there). Somewhat recent. Top floor.

Nothing could happen there. 

If you are ignoring the Innsmouth curse, that's it.

Now, I no longer have cold water, and they are planning to blow the (parqueted) floor to check whether or not the corrosion has spread.

I am cursed.

Hospital life

So, my dad fell on the floor on the 4th of August. He is still in revalidation now, and he is not getting better. October saw a dramatic improvement, but he has been regressing since then. He was scheduled for surgery a few days ago, and even if he seems to be better, to me at least, his doctors are seeing very little progress. I have observed that he is now able to cross his legs, even if walking is still past him. He didn't receive the surgery he was scheduled to, the post op exam happened too early, and, from what I can deduce, he seems to be treated for both his stroke and Parkinson disease. The last one was supposed to have been excluded a few years ago, but perhaps was it too early by then. I can understand that treatments can be conflicting, but I have a hard time understanding why he is not treated fully. Still, he seems to be taking it all in stride, which is reassuring. He is no longer confused, and the spinal fluid drain seems to have had some very positive effects. As long as he is reasonably well, what can I say? I would like him to start accepting visits from friends, but he doesn't want them. He has been spending months with nurses and a television for company. He no longer reads much, but he is very articulate and has, surprisingly, a lot to say. 

I do not know how to end this post. No clever remark, no clear ending, even though I would very much like this situation to come to an end and close this chapter, to be able to put this behind me, not having to worry any more. Well, it is still ongoing, so I'll leave it at that.

Role models

When your role models were, and to some extent still are, Edmund Lyons, Winston Churchill, Hugh Sinclair, Hasimir Fenring, number 6 and the omega man, your very own standards can hurt you sometimes...