No good deed goes unpunished.

Admittedly it wasn't that good a deed. The punishment far outweighs it.

In an attempt to bring the joys of Spring to my mother, I sent her photos of the blossoming trees around our house. They are beautiful and she liked them at first. My mistake was in mentioning how much I like the little apple tree because its blooms are lovely and its fruit delicious.

Then she told me not to eat the fruit from the garden because we have been sick ever since we got here. Now, it is true, but that was Covid and other stuff that comes from a wet cold climate, and I had skin cancer way back when we lived near Manchester, a malignant melanoma that had to be cut out. She knew about it. She was one of the first people to spot it. Now she is denying it ever happened.

I know she can't help it, and R points out while Bro's closing down/shutting out of Mum is not laudable, he can understand why he does it. I just need to be patient, I know, I know. But I'm fed up of the endless shifting tides of her perception, where nothing is real except what she dreads. I am fed up of my life and experience being erased over 40 years and counting. There's a metaphor for our family life that really fits, just waterlogged sands on a beach where the tide is always coming in.

My head throbbed a bit because of these glasses, but now it is much worse.

Honestly, I just wanted to show her some bloody flowers.