I’m worried about my mental health. Think I need to be included in that disability group. Then I can get one of those ‘park anywhere you like’ badges for the car and a government grant to pay for… errrr, well, there’s whisky, that’s not cheap and… and more whisky, when the first glass is empty. And why have I ‘hit the bottle’? Well first there’s the brother. And then there’s the whole ‘Israel thing’.

So a recap on the brother. He’s still lying there all day and night as if he’s on holiday and is frightened that if he gets up a family of Germans will steal his bed. So I said to him: ‘enough of this lazing around, lollygagging on life support, as if you’re life depends on it! Time to get moving!’ The problem is that if I make him laugh it’s not a great thing. Although today it became a slightly greater thing as they took that horrible fucking tube out of his throat. And that is a very big deal indeed. The nurse said: ‘that will make him much more comfortable’. I said: ‘it’ll make ME more comfortable, why is it always about HIM???’ Because, trust me, you can’t accessorised a ventilator to make it a ‘good look’. I tried. It’s horrible to see. And now, hopefully, no more. He’s had a tracheotomy instead but that’s relatively small fry. That we can decorate.

And thus begins, we hope, the long haul back to… something better than what we have now. They’ve reduced his sedation, which means he can communicate non-verbally, to a degree. Which means he can’t answer back. Which means I’ve won every argument I’ve had with him for six weeks.

The nursing staff are beyond wonderful. And tonight I spoke to his consultant, Professor something-or-other, head of the ICU. Lovely little man. Who told me ‘it’s going to take time… a long time’. Slowly take him off life support. Like we didn’t know. This evening’s nurse was a super Filipina who last year visited Israel. She’s a Christian (proper one, capital ‘c’), and they all love Israel. They get it.

And there’s Israel. Gaza. The mess. The outrage over here causing ructions everywhere. From Rochdale to Westminster. Democratic outrage. Parliament in fear. The ‘general public’ following the horrible, Hamas-driven rhetoric like moronic sheep, following it… from the river to the sea.

I asked the consultant about my problems, he said I need the psych wing. Plus some strong medication. And whisky. Always whisky.

Happy Monday

A xxxx