Hello again everyone,
I'm Roberta, Bob's wife, just posting a quick update on the situation following Bob's collapse the other day. Well, the good news is he's out of hospital - in fact, he's sitting up in bed opposite me thumbing through an old Freeman's catalogue as I type! He's signing that he likes looking at the models wearing lingerie (at least, I *think* that's what that rapid shaking of his wrists signifies...) - so, you can tell he's on the mend!) We've also managed to get him back off the solids, which I'm sure you'll agree is a very positive sign.
There's still no real clue as to what triggered the episode in the first place, although it transpired that he had been watching the latest Kesha video on the laptop around the time and there were still traces of sequin-effect mascara on his lids when the paramedics finally managed to remove the Tesco's bag for life that he had over his head, attached with a belt around the neck, and taken the orange out of his mouth ...so your guess is as good as mine...
Obviously, it's still early days and he's prone to spending long parts of the day clawing helplessly at my rubber nurses' outfit - in fact, you can now barely see the painted on breast watch he's been playing with it so frantically. I'm also finding it very tiring playing nursemaid to him what with all the other work I've been having to do looking after his estate...erm, I mean, back catalogue. I did take the MacMillan nurses up on their very kind offer to come in and help with the caring duties, but that really didn't work out very well at all, I'm afraid, They'd just come in, change his bedpan, give him a quick once over with a flannel and then tell him he'd never had it so good...still, they're volunteers, so I suppose one shouldn't complain. Besides, at least it gave me a break. It's a small but vital respite to be able to remove one's 7 inch heeled slingbacks, put the old feet up with a nice hot mug of tea and watch someone else trying to rub Bob's semen off their skin-tight latex matron's outfit, I can tell you.
Oh, and Bob's been able to get a few words out. He's taken to yelling "turned out nice again!" at anyone who'll listen. Not that stimulating as conversations go, but it has at least stopped him from shouting out "OOOOHH MATRON!" at the top of his voice every time someone vaguely female wearing a uniform passes by. It's maybe a side-effect of having had his favourite George Formby CD playing on repeat. It seems to soothe him - when he's not trying to use his bedpan as a banjolele so he can pretend to be playing along, that is...
I'll be back over the next few days to keep you all posted. In the meantime, thanks to everyone for your well-wishes and support - it's made both of us very happy to know that so many of you are thinking of us at this difficult time.