|
I just found out something that broke my heart and made me want to kill someone.
Two years ago, my Dad was driving back from his nightly visit to his regular pub. He used to go in every evening, and nurse a single whiskey and water, sitting at the bar chatting to the regulars. He was very ill even by then, a year and a half into his disease. When he visited the pub, he'd have to park up and wait for about half an hour to get his breath back from the drive before going in. At his side on the passenger seat would be a portable oxygen cylinder and breathing apparatus.
He kept that routine going pretty much up until he was bed-ridden.
On this particular occasion (according to the pub landlady whom my brother met this afternoon) he left the pub, sat in his van to get his breath back after the walk from the pub, then drove off. He got stopped by police who, presumably because they could smell the one whiskey on his breath and because by now Dad looked like he wasn't taking care of himself, they said they needed to breathalyse him.
Dad said he couldn't. he could barely breath. He was by now, very fucking obviously sick. Very fucking obviously struggling for every goddamned breath. The bastard fucking, shit of a policeman, took him back to the station and because he 'refused' to give a breath test, they kept him in a cell overnight and wouldnt give him his fucking oxygen. I am so angry right now I could smash something. I want to scream.
|