13th August 2019
I drove down to Whitney on Wye to visit my friend Martin. The last time I had seen him things didn’t go well because his new Newfoundland puppy kept chewing my hand. This time was a little better because we all went for a walk to calm the dogs down.
The Newfoundland’s are so large, it’s tongue is as big as my face, and they don’t know their own strength, so I am always tense, and waiting for their mouth to close around my head.
Martin is not in great shape. He had an operation earlier in the year on his right shoulder to basically reattach his tendons. He now has a more movement, although not without pain. His left shoulder is the next one to be operated on. This one is far more complex to repair, requiring more metal fixings. He is on high doses of morphine to help relieve his agonising pain.
I have become numb to his suffering, I cannot give him the sympathy he demands, and I do not feel guilty about it. This may seem cold and heartless but over the years I have been drained by his “I wish I was dead” attitude. I have told him I will support him in what ever he wishes to do with his life.
I still have concerns, not for him but his wife Liz and the dogs, he seems to forget about them.
Another Lifetime to go 