Well, this is the kind of real thing people blog about, right? Feelings, misery. It’s meant to be cathartic or some such. We’ll see.
A good friend, S, was riding his bicycle down the hill round the corner from my house Monday 2nd March, when a car turned into the road without looking and smashed into him. He was going fast and wasn’t wearing a helmet, but the consultant said it wouldn’t have made any difference. His brain impacted so hard within his skull it haemorraged. He’s lost the use of an eye, and an arm has been crushed. But it’s the brain injury which is the real problem, of course. He’s been lying in a coma in a specialist neurological unit since the accident.
The prognosis is extremely poor, the likelihood that S will live very much longer very low. His wife, a good friend, is refusing to see most people, even their 3-year old son.
Despite the fact he’s in a coma, S has had to be heavily sedated to try and alleviate some of the pressure on his brain. On Sunday they tried to bring him out of the sedation, but the pressure in his skull increased rapidly and dangerously and they had to put him back under. They said they’d never had to use such huge quantities of sedatives on anyone before.
That’s my lad. Fighting like a rhino. That’s what I call raging against the dying of the light.
I’m still writing lame jokes on Twitter and arsing about and talking crap, because I don’t really know what else to do. You see, he wouldn’t want it any other way:
“What the FUCK are you doing, moping around?”, he’d say, “I heard there are NSFW photos of unicorns screwing narwhals which need sharing. Get to it.”
So I will. I’ll think up gags while I’m crying at my desk, or on the bus, or in bed, just to try and make him laugh in my head. And to distract me from the horror.
I can’t really see what I’m typing any more.
And I know it’s a cliché and you’ve heard this a thousand times, and I know you probably don’t need telling but I don’t fucking care, I’m going to say it anyway. Hold your people close, guys. Hold them close because you don’t ever know what’s going to happen, or whether they’ll be there tomorrow.
We love you so much, S. Keep fighting. And don’t worry, dude: give me five minutes to pull myself the eff together and normal service will be resumed. There will be lame puns and stupid jokes aplenty.
Yeah, so there you go. Right in the eye, World.
Tags: Life · so it goes20 Comments
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My God, I’m so sorry.
I’m so sorry. For what it’s worth, your Twitter is the best I’ve found, and this was a shock to read. I wish all the best for your friend.
Oh bless you. The brain is an amazing thing with capacity to function beyond our understanding, the soul is an extraordinary part of ourselves and we humans regularly achieve the impossible thanks to these two. What a horrible place to be, keep (mostly) off the alcohol so you can be there, fully present and strong. I once had a great friend who helped me out of somewhere similar, they patiently waited til they were needed and you will be
Good thoughts for your friend.
Lots of positive thoughts headed your way, J.
All I can say is I am so very sorry.
Hi sniffy,
It’s just terrible what happened to your friend.
I made this for you last nite.
I did it as a creative exercise but I hope it at least lets you do a little “arsing around”.
My heart and my (California secular) prayers go out to you, your friend and his family.
Rather dumbstruck, both by the events you’ve described and the sheer force of your words. They are savage testimony to how much you care for your friends, who are lucky to have you near.
We always, always need reminding to hold those close to us even closer. I think of my sleeping boys as I read and my blood runs cold. In a situation as apparently hopeless as this, hope is all there is. Hold onto it and hold onto it.
I know we’re only Twitter mates and all that, but the human bond builds quickly. This post went right through me. Every good and positive thought from here to you and your friends.
You’re doing good.
I am really very sorry to hear about this tragedy. In a very selfish way, I am glad your friend would want you to carry on, for yours are some of the very few tweets to which I earnestly look forward. (I am, apparently, stalking you now. Sorry for that and please clean your windows, kthxbai.) Seriously though, thoughts and prayers are with you.
My heart goes out to S, his family, and you. I hope writing about it and sharing it is cathartic. I, too, have heard it said that it is. I hope never to discover the truth first hand.
And humor is one of the best tools to helps us, at any time, stand up when all we want to do is melt into a puddle of grief and wail at all that’s criminally unfair.
Justine, I am so sorry. Thoughts and prayers are with you and your friend.
Reba
There isn’t much to say, so I’ll just emoticon it: =(
It’s never easy, these lives we say goodbye to.
I have been wrestling with what to say since i read this post earlier today. Have followed you for a few weeks on twitter (thanks to @frostinglickr) and have enjoyed your maniacal sense of humor.
To read this raw, open prose is a jarring wake up from the silly banter on twitter. I’d love to say I’m sorry but it presumes so much familiarity that it seems vacant. I’d love to say something supportive, but again it would feel contrived. So all I am left with is this: Thank You.
Thank you for sharing this. Thank you for allowing all of us twits on twitter to see this other side of your life. Thank you for reminding us to hold our people close. Thank you for poking me in the eye and making me read something that made me both uncomfortable and grateful at once.
M
i’m so sorry. if there’s anything you need let me know. i wish you, your friend and his family the best.
I am so very sorry for your S and his family, friends.
I’m sorry – I’m so sorry.
Well you are doing a superb job of keeping the funny going on twitter. I’m so sorry to read of your friend’s trauma. Thoughts and prayers.
I don’t know you, but reading this post just gave my heart a serious squeeze so I’m going to take your advice and go and squeeze the people I love today too.
Thank you for sharing … and consider yourself squeezed by a stranger.
I’m so sorry.
And I’m a Leo, so I’d draw a parallel to my own circumstance as if that might help or be even remotely relevant, but have moved the resulting “paralytic effects of failed logic” treatise elsewhere in hopes that I’ll absorb it myself, one day.
Still: Is his wife able to eat, drink, breathe w/o being directed? Is someone taking care of that? Etiquette can be tossed out with logic: distress requires order, then help, then consolation.
Your tweets are brilliant, and inspire me to relative liveliness. I hope you’re well attended, with someone to nudge you along so you can nudge them along and start the don’t-think-just-do reconstruction in aberrant void.
The family may come to accept that everything = antagonistic x wrong. Disproofs work. You just might have to fake it, for a while. (Gads, that sounds flippant when I put on my London or Newcastle ears. Out here, in SF, from a wee battered post-powerhouse, flippant= soul-baring.)
With sympathy,
J