awkward illness

While we were away in Budapest my mum informed me that my brother had been rushed into hospital. She didn't have any details, and I reasonably assumed it was his kidney stones again. But no. Turns out he had returned from his second home in Burgundy sporting a high fever and barely conscious. Officially he was a case of "PUO", or pyrexia of unknown origin, though their money was on some tic-borne disease such as Rocky Mountain spotted fever, which despite its name is not confined to the American mid-west. The hospital (in Canterbury, where he lives)cracked him on a range of powerful intravenous antibiotics and he improved slowly but steadily each day.

I decided it would be wise to see for myself what was going on, so I made the lengthy journey cross-country to check him out. I was shocked by what I found. He had lost weight and looked very weak and grey. The fact that he hadn't shaved for over a week probably didn't help. But he was ready to be discharged, as his blood indices had improved since his admission to the point where they had now returned to normal, and indeed all the tests failed to provide a definitive diagnosis. There had been an idea for him to come over to my mum's place to convalesce, which considering her parlous state did not seem the greatest idea, but it was clear he would be hard put to look after himself for the next few days, so I acquiesced. Irritatingly, because of the Open golf being played out only a few miles away, I was unable to secure any accommodation nearer than Sevenoaks, more than 50 miles away (my brother's own house being unavailable for reasons I do not intend to discuss here).

So yesterday I brought him back by car and deposited him at my mum's house. No moneys were offered to offset my considerable out-of-pocket expenses, though I was handed a nice bottle of 2006 sauternes for my trouble- better than nothing. How long he will stay au maman is uncertain, though I would calculate anything up to a fortnight. I wish them both well...