More Autumn brightness. Will miss it when its gone.Dusted off my going out boots for an evening with Jacob. Jeez, just cant take the drink like I used to be able to. Four large house (read 'cheap') red wines later I set off from Waterloo back home to my bed. The welcoming party next morning took the shape of a monumental hangover. The full works, sweats, headaches and turgid, rolling stomach - something had to give. And give it did, after subjecting the toilet to the most horrid pebbledashing my guts finally revolted and relieved me of my breakfast Shreddies. Gotta give up this drinking lark, I reckon...
Lucky Patch was delayed by British Rail on his visit up to see me. By the time we met my demeanour was a little more even. However, Patch was in animated conversation with a close mutual friend on the telephone who sounded in a bad way. So bad, infact, we decided to get on a train to go down to visit him. On the journey down, Patch cheerfully informed me that cheap red wine contains large amounts of ethanol which can magnify a hangover's impact, my digestive system quacked away in merry agreement whilst he spoke..
We arrived in the town where our friend had ended up. And Christ is it a dump. My first thought was 'You're down in the dumps, miles away from your friends and family and stuck here!!??' If there is a town which will leach away your will to live it's this one. Fast food wrappings idly floating down the streets, bands of beady eyed crows on the scrounge and rodent faced young teens - it's enough to make your heart sink. Our friend arrived to meet us soon after, pale faced and with a pained expression. Any composure he had broke as soon as I gave him a hug and the tears came. The story followed: he'd had enough, his life didnt matter and noone would miss him. Despite our best (and increasingly frustrated) persuasion he still would not budge. Between tears and surreal bonhomie he bounced but still held firm. I was at a loss, but Patch phoned up an ambulance which came down. After a brief chat the medics drove the two of them off to hospital, I made my way by train and arrived at A&E about an hour later.
We arrived in the town where our friend had ended up. And Christ is it a dump. My first thought was 'You're down in the dumps, miles away from your friends and family and stuck here!!??' If there is a town which will leach away your will to live it's this one. Fast food wrappings idly floating down the streets, bands of beady eyed crows on the scrounge and rodent faced young teens - it's enough to make your heart sink. Our friend arrived to meet us soon after, pale faced and with a pained expression. Any composure he had broke as soon as I gave him a hug and the tears came. The story followed: he'd had enough, his life didnt matter and noone would miss him. Despite our best (and increasingly frustrated) persuasion he still would not budge. Between tears and surreal bonhomie he bounced but still held firm. I was at a loss, but Patch phoned up an ambulance which came down. After a brief chat the medics drove the two of them off to hospital, I made my way by train and arrived at A&E about an hour later.
We waited in the observation area for a couple of hours, my friend was rational and calm now but still of the same mindset he'd been before. He requested we sit in with his consultation with the Casualty doctor who listened to his predicament with clinical detachment. By 10.50 it transpired a consultant was on his way for a more detailed chat, our friend seemed to have gained a slightly more positive perspective and he sent us home. I finally got to my own bed at just before 2am feeling tired, but relieved that our friend had made the right move. I'm full of admiration for Patch making the call to summon help, as without that I reckon the news would've been so much darker.
Two days later it was back to Newlands Corner for my monthly visit with Mum. She was distracted with other health issues, one of which was a late night visit to A&E after a bleed. The doctors were a little too candid for my liking, touting words like 'cancer' a little too freely and it had obviously hit her hard. She spoke about 'cheating death' and of her mother and sister who both succumbed to the ilness in the last 15 years. It felt like we parted company without our usual warmth and empathy - she with a forthcoming scan to focus on and me dreading the start of a possible decline. It's funny, you expect your parents to be a tower of strength in the early years of your life but eventually they disabuse you of that notion. She is an incredibly strong woman who seems to have shrugged off adversity in the past - I fear it will become so much harder if she doesnt have the support she deserves.
UPDATE: Not the Big C for Mum. She has something called a polyp in her womb which the hospital will biopsy very soon. Till now I'd believed that polyps grew on coral reefs so I obviously need to educate myself. We are relieved for the moment, a further scan to determine whether it is benign or malignant will follow. Our friend is staying with his family in the West Country, he sent me a couple of texts stating things were getting easier and I'm thrilled. Have known him since the age of sixteen and the prospect of him finding peace reassures me greatly.
