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Wednesday, 11 February 2009

Let Him Die.

When I'm old I'm going to die. Maybe even when I'm younger. But lets not tempt fate. The reason this came about is that my Grandad, Grandad Tom, is dying. I don't just say this, its happening. He's been dying for fifteen years but he's just not allowed to die. Even though he's in so much pain, he can't make it stop. He went into the hospital dead, but they recussitated him, gave him two hours to live and put him in the little back room they put people to die in. He's got that rattling in his throat people get when they've been given a life sentence.
Why can't we just let him go? Its not helping anyone, being constanly on call. But Grandma Bridie
Just. Won't. Let. Him. Die.
She's made them put him on oxygen but won't let him get morphine because that'll kill him. Almost as if he's not being killed already.

Its typical. She has this slow, painful way of executing everything, her husband included, I guess.

But when you've got nothing, a hundred pound giro, a dying cat, four unsympathetic children and a tumble-down house slap-bang in the middle of Shootings and Stabbings that you won't even leave through the fear, I can understand, no matter how selfish it be, why you'd want to keep the only one whoever really and truly loved you in your long and unforgiving life.

Beep. Beeeep. Beeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

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