Think what could happen.

[smokingboot]

One of the surgeons loomed over my friends bed like the shadow of the reaper, and advised him to forget about going home, and to go to a hospice instead.

'Think what could happen,' said the doleful presence. 'In a hospice they know how to care for people in your condition. You'll be surrounded by people who can help. At home...well, think. Think what could happen.'

'But I want to go home,' said my friend, 'I want to go home...'

'Think about it,' said the surgeon, and with that retreated. In my mind he wheels back as though on casters like the old nun in Blues Brothers.

I go to see him again today.

Think what could happen? Well, what option is there? I don't know enough about hospices, but I would say that he is a very sociable man. Perhaps it would be better if folk could be with him at the last, friends, not strangers getting ready to strip the sheets. And how would we know anyway? He couldn't really phone us and say, 'Can you come around? I think I'm dying today...' I have no opinion; it's only what he wants that matters. Sometimes we want things that don't turn out too well for us. Years ago, Gerald's wife, Michaela, already a bit into booze I think, was discovered in her flat three weeks after her death. I never knew the cause, only that her grief at losing Gerald was huge. But it's a stupid comparison, between two entirely different situations.

I asked him if he would like me to get him some books to read, and he said that he can't read now; it takes him ages and nothing stays in his head.

Comments

[cyanidemigraine.livejournal.com]

im reading these and thinking of you with much sympathy, it sounds incredibly difficult, and for what use long range virtual support is, you have it from me.

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much my dear.

Your long range virtual support makes a huge difference to me XXX