Fuzzy head more melancholic gloom

I’ve been neglecting you Mr Blog I realise that. The thing is the stuff that has been in my head recently I haven’t really wanted to share with anyone. I will just get a few things off my mind though but may delete the post next time I log on.

I went round to Mers place a couple of weekends ago, she is so upset not just for my mum but because me and my dad have to go through it again. She kept telling me how fucking unfair everything is. I know! It is unfair that this should be happening again and the ludicrous irony that it’s the same disease that killed my brother. Would I feel better if it was something else? I don’t know but I think it may be in the end. After years of having heart problems and being on a low cholesterol diet my mum not surprisingly doesn’t give a shit anymore what she eats. Cheese, bacon, chocolate and cider. All her favourite things. I hope her ticker just gives up on her, I want her to go quickly and not linger.

Then I just have the task of filling her size 4’s. Fuck! I’m not cut out to be like her. Tough yet one of the most kind hearted people you will ever meet. Often terrifying to the stranger but will give people love that never expect it. So many waifs and stray have been under her wing I’ve lost count.

Letter

I’m glad you called me. I think I prefer to know the truth about the danger you face but why a secret? Well obviously I know why the secret from the outside world but you should tell your mum and your wife. I know the former has been through a lot recently and this is the first time the latter has had to deal with one of your trips. And yes I do promise to look after them both if anything does happen. But it won’t, it can’t. I wouldn’t be able to go on without you baby.

I’ve never heard you speak like that before about your ‘job’ I know the huge amounts of alcohol had something to do with it but don’t bottle it up. You can talk to me about anything you want honey God know’s you have in the past.

I want this year to go so quickly. Knowing you won’t be here for most of it is a real daunting prospect, who am I going to talk to about things? Stay safe my dear. You better see me before you go even if I have to come over there and find you!!

Falling apart

F**k it all. I can’t cope with it. Just put the light out and let him be peaceful. Let the pain stop and let the grief begin. The glimmer has gone anyway. How did I do this last time, I don’t know. I can’t remember.

A weekend of 2 halves

On Saturday I became a rampaging monster as I decided the house was a tip so spent all morning cleaning and tidying. Later on we headed over to the hospice. Roy was asleep so we sat for a while. My mum and dad arrived and so did my cousin Marcus and his stepson. Eventually Roy woke up. I sat with him for a while and then we headed home. Bob was a bit freaked out by being back in the hospice as this was the first time he had been back there. It’s odd how you can spend so many hours in a building and yet remember very little. I think I blocked out huge sections of my memory from those days but some bits are starting to return, triggered by me being back at the hospice. At the time Steve was ill I liked being in the protective shell of the hospice with my vast family around me especially my Uncle Roy and Aunty Margaret but I hated sitting by Steve’s bedside, I just couldn’t bear to see him like that. Unconscious with morphine drivers in each arm taking it in turns to fill him full of pain relief. People sitting holding his hand, talking to him even though he was no longer there, my dad getting upset, telling him not to go, my mum tearless as ever telling him it was time to go to sleep coz then it would stop hurting.

It is different at the moment as Roy is still conscious and quite talkative sometimes. He is also so glad to see me every time I go there. If he deteriorates much more I’m not sure I will be able to cope with sitting with him but I will try my best. He asked if I was spending Christmas with them this year, (I always spend Christmas with them) I said yes obviously. He smiled and said that was good, more than good. The chances of him actually still being here at Christmas are quite small, although I think I said that this time last year.

I find blogging quite a therapy at the moment. Not many people understand what it is like to watch somebody die so very slowly, being eaten up by this freaking awful disease, (unless they have witnessed it themselves). I should have people to talk to about it in that case given what has gone before. I talk to Bob sometimes, normally after we have been drinking though but I always feel as if I am stirring up memories within him and unlike me he does not want to let those memories stay. I can talk to my mum and dad but they are so busy sitting with him and rushing around making sure everyone else is ok. The rest are too close or far too busy keeping a stiff upper lip to show any sort of emotion. I wish Steve was here, he’d get upset with me and we could reminisce. So it comes to this, the queen of advice and opinion has to resort to blogging to get things of her chest.

Anyway….later that day Kev and O caught the train over from Hereford and we had a few drinks. In fact I got a bit merry, it was complete escapism. We ranted away about the wedding and Kev told us some stories about his drunken trips to the local pub. Just as we were leaving Bob decided to throw a glass of vino over Kev, not the best decision but he didn’t seem to mind.

Not for the jolly

Ok following the nice jolly blog about last weekend I think I may need to be a little dark and self absorbed for a time. I ‘m not going into great detail as it isn’t fair on the people involved.

My uncle got taken to St-Michaels Hospice last Wednesday. On Thursday I was working up in Burton but had finished by 12ish so decided to take the rest of the day off. I drove to the hospice and sat outside, my hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I hadn’t been back since that fateful day. I summoned up every ounce of courage I had, just thinking how glad he would be to see me. I went into reception and signed in and asked the lady behind the counter where he was, she told me the bed number and ward name, (there are only about 16 beds in the whole place). I didn’t recognise the name or anything but I just knew where he would be. I wandered through and my mum, dad and Aunty were sat outside the two wards eating their lunch. I sat down too and just said, he’s in Steve’s bed isn’t he. Indeed he was. Anyway, I stayed there all afternoon.

He’s going home on Monday, not an oh everything is fine type of going home though, quite the opposite, it could be a while though. The darkness is drawing in and I actually feel quite wretched. The light still shines from him sometimes, he hasn’t gone completely there are scraps of him left, contained within a shell of skin and bone. We are a very close family, the loss will hit us like an exploding bomb to have another one go before his time.

Rollercoaster ride

As my boss would say it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster ride. I have had some fab news and also some awful news, both arriving in the same text message, thanks for that love.

I really can’t go into too much detail but someone very close to me is getting married, finally. I’m very excited about that. He is also dissaperaing off next year for another tour of somewhere very hot and sweaty and hopefully his last full on tour all together. I can’t articulate what it feels like to be told that someone you love dearly will be in such danger. I know people live with it everyday but I don’t think I could cope if I lost someone else. His dad is still fighting, lets hope he stays in this world long enough to see his son married.

This coupled with the fact I have not been on very good form recently means that I have been having an emotional old time, which is very unlike me. I’ll pull myself together and be incredibly British about it. Well actually until the wedding when I can almost guarantee that I’ll be a jibbering wreck.

Grrr I’m cross!!!!

Ok a subject close to my heart.

It’s about this argument that seems to be raging in the press about Princess Beatrice being fat. Some chick, (Alison Pearson) from the Daily Mail accused Bea of being pear shaped and a pampered Miss Piggy after a pic of her in her bikini on the beach was published.

It looks like the Daily Mail has found another subject for a Witch Hunt, what’s up, was Kate Moss busy?! The actual witch-hunt seems to be directed at Sarah Fergusson but as she has been a goody two shows recently they decided to aim it at her daughter.

I have no idea if Beatrice is pampered but she aint fat, the picture isn’t very flattering as it looks like her bikini top is about to fall off giving the impression she has saggy boobs, (which I’m sure she hasn’t). But I’m sure there were plenty of nice photos of her but the gutter press being as they are would not want to print one of those. Fergie has said she is a size 10 and come out with some very sharp to the point comments in response. Suggesting that the press wanted her to be anorexic coz that would give them even more to write about.

Why does this sort of rubbish ‘journalism’ always seem to come from bitchy media women. They are creating this freaking size zero culture where a chick that is size 10 is actually perceived as fat. I know it gives column inches but it’s just bollocks. Leave the poor girl alone and while you’re at it stop judging women by how they look. Apparently Alison Pearson’s predecessor, (also dead now) was the woman who attacked how Mo Mowlam looked when she was actually dying of cancer. Who gives a shit what she looks like? She was a great MP and played a major role in the Good Friday agreement. But no you couldn’t possibly focus on her being a very strong woman in a mans world, managing to do something that people had failed for 40 years to achieve. You had to say, “she’s looking a bit rough fancy going out looking like that!!” Well that’s what chemotherapy does to you. Ohhh look at me I have managed to combine my three major talking points into one blog, (1 Eating and weight issues, 2 Cancer and 3 Just my loathing of the gutter press)

Melancholy

Life has been both fabulous and awful recently. Fabulous because I have been off visisting my very special cousin in Northern Ireland, (the blog may follow soon about this) and awful as my uncle, (special cousins dad) has moved closer to the dark. He is fading away in front of us. Admitedly we never thought he would get this far but it is still horendous to watch this happen again. Even more horrendous in some aspects. Steve was ill a long time but it took him very quickly in the end. Oh well, little moment over with.

8th March

Well it’s 5 years today.

You still make me laugh you great big cuddley baffoon.

Just ignore it

I am sometimes very dark but normally just light. I have a heart of gold but you need a big hammer to chip off the stone casing that surrounds it. Sometimes the darkness engulfs me, I feel it surrounding me and dragging me down.  My head starts to wander off into the strange realms of what I call head flip time. I haven’t had it for a while but it always there, at the back of my personality. It can shine through when I have been drinking and I’ll say the oddest stuff about death. Bob understands it, he lost too. If anything he lost more than me. Not that it is just the loss that made me like this. The ED too. That has become a symptom of the head flip but existed long before. I have a feeling the head flip will happen again soon. I am about to lose again.