annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary

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Sunday night

1. All the dogs - mine, my sister's and my brother's - want to lick the wound on my leg. Vile creatures. Bloodlust. Makes me feel sick that I ever could feel affection for such alien, wild creatures. I have to keep pushing them away, all the time - none of them are obedient as none of us are very consistent dog trainers. Shirley is good at the care home, Alfie is good round the horses and Tango was good on my brother's bed while his wife was giving him medicine, so we are consistent around things that really matter. Tango is desolate since Brother died. He's a rescue dog and really bonded so this is another blow to him.


2. We've planned the funeral today, the details of which music and who will speak and when. It was so hard to get myself over there. I just didn't want to be planning the funeral of my little brother and ended up spending hours on the beach, intently scanning for sea glasswalking so slowly, dragging the time away, until I realised they were waiting for me and I didn't want to be fucking them about - his sons and wife. I'm going to speak about him and also read this bit from Cymbeline (there's another stanza, but I don't like it so I'll just do this) :
   

   'Fear no more the heat o' the sun'

   
   

   (from CYMBELINE, Act IV, Scene 2)

   Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,
   Nor the furious winter’s rages;
   Thou thy worldly task hast done,
   Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
   Golden lads and girls all must,
   As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

   Fear no more the frown o’ the great;
   Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;
   Care no more to clothe and eat;
   To thee the reed is as the oak:
   The scepter, learning, physic, must
   All follow this, and come to dust.

   Fear no more the lightning flash,
   Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;
   Fear not slander, censure rash;
   Thou hast finished joy and moan:
   All lovers young, all lovers must
   Consign to thee, and come to dust.



3. 
   
   I could smack my sister in the mouth, though I won't as I am an old hippy and against violence in all its forms, but by God she pushes my buttons sometimes. First off she couldn't understand why I was bothering to tell ED that Brother had died. We don't know for sure that ED understands what's going on but Jesus, let's give her the benefit of the doubt - we definitely don't know that she doesn't understand, for fuck's sake, and she is part of the family and loved Brother who did actually visit her, right up to the end, unlike some, Sister. Then today she wonders why I'm bothering to get a van to take ED out and, as mentioned, I want to smack her in the mouth. It doesn't come from not caring but from having no fucking imagination and no empathy, absolutely zero. I'd say to her, imagine if it was one of your daughters, who was once full of life and sparkle and gobby as fuck, now lying passively, taking whatever scraps of life you chose to hand her - but if she did manage the massive leap to conjure such a scenario she'd never let it go, so fuck it, I just moan about her behind her back, but she is my sister and I do love her, the fucker. This is us when we were little, from left to right, me, her and brother, in the 1950s


4. The clocks went forward and I don't care. It's hard to care all the time.


5. And I have a cold, the first one since I took up meditation, eons ago.


6. And, which is worse, the GP gave me a letter from the people who do the CBT I'm after to help come off my sleeping pills, saying they didn't think it was an appropriate treatment for me as I "probably" have Borderline Personality Disorder, which no fucker has ever suggested or even mentioned to me, and I looked it up and became very upset and crushed by it, though I don't think it's true but how can my GP be so fucking casual about it?

12:04 a.m. - 26.03.18

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