Chapter 9
He took a moment and sat at the table, head resting in his hands. He was so tired. All the time. He found himself weeping at the most ridiculous things. He allowed himself a moment of emotion. Disgust for his inability to fend properly for himself. Distaste at the instructions he’d left hospital with, the long list of things with which he was supposed to ask for help. Bathing, putting his shoes on, cutting his nails. Wiping his arse even, on bad days. He was never going to ask anyone for help with any of those things ever again.
By far the worst thing was driving. He wasn’t able to drive a car anymore. On the road, definitely. Even around the farm. Practically speaking, it was impossible anyway. He couldn’t make his left leg work enough to manage the clutch or his left arm work enough to manage the gears, particularly in the tractor. He’d tried. He couldn’t even get up and in by himself without help.