This week has been less than easy.
We started it worrying about Ray's endoscopy, followed by relief that there was nothing found mixed with disappointment that they didn't find a simple ulcer and zap it (or whatever they do) and then worry again that he needs a colonoscopy because they know that there is something to be found. It can't be serious. It just can't. He's fine. He feels fine.
Our Landlord (also a friend and provider of work for Ray) still hasn't concreted the area outside our back door. It's a rubble path at the moment and the garden is full of scaffolding, sand, a concrete mixer, etc. Ray sent him a hissy text message and then he sent one back. The following day we locked ourselves out of the house and had to call him.
The car failed it's MOT (road worthiness test) and the brake callipers need changing. We need to spend yet more money we don't have.
Life just keeps going on. Losing a baby, two babies, a whole team of babies doesn't exempt you from other crappy stuff. It should. It really really should. By rights all of we the babylost should win the lottery jackpot and suffer perfect health and a peaceful mind until the day we die, hand in hand with our love, in our sleep at 101.
They forgot that didn't they? Yoo hoo, hello? Excuse me? Can I have my babylost free pass to an easy life now please? Hello.....?
And so, we found the brake callipers for half the price we were originally quoted and my Mum is lending us the money until Ray's next job and it's not as much as it would be if Ray couldn't do it himself. When our landlord turned up with the key he cheerfully apologised for all the delays and promised that next week... and as for Ray, well we don't believe it is anything sinister because well, it's not possible.
Things are rarely quite as bad as our imagination tells us. Of course sometimes things are very very bad, but mostly... hopefully...
And so, life goes on, even with an ache in the chest, a knot in the stomach and an inconvenient hole in the pocket.