One Man’s State of the Nation
I’ve just sat up. I’ve just finished a cigarette. I’m not supposed to smoke in my flat but tonight I don’t care.
I’m playing my beloved Tallis Scholars, my favourite…Taverner’s Mass…to relax. They make me cry too. But tonight? I’d cry anyway.
Not knowing for sure, but J. is “homeless” as of tomorrow. I was with him all night. He’s a disaster. Surprising? He could barely make it to see me. We talked about a lot of things, some other options (that were pretty slim.) We almost forgot about his sister in Paris! Shit! Then, my half lost idea.
Hospital. Not that I would advocate going to hospital when you’re homeless but J. carries a diagnosis or two, is on meds, and for fuck’s sake! Hello! He can barely function!
He’s petrified and scarred from prior experiences but I told him from a practical stance, it would buy him some time. Christ! You don’t have anywhere to live! Plus, they can help you? Maybe assist you in finding what you need?
He said I was “right.”
Tomorrow’s going to be rough. He has at least one friend coming over to try and deal with all of his “stuff.” He’s been trying to throw out as many of his possessions as best he can. I’ve offered to take as many I can, but I have limited space. My flat can barely fit me!
So the “plan” is to have his one friend come over and help with some minor stuff. Another friend? They’re still trying to get in touch with him. If he can come by, they’ll bring the bigger stuff that I can take, as he has a bigger car. If not? I have no clue.
Regardless, after all of that, J. will be driven over to my place with whatever I can take with “Friend No #1.” Then, I will take him to hospital. I will stay with him for how many goddamn hours it takes (and as we all know, how many hours?) until he is admitted.
I hit a bump in the road tonight, though. I seized. Not NCSE, obviously. I knew I seized so it wasn’t NCSE! I said to him if I was post-“ick”tal© I’d still drag my sorry ass to drag his sorry ass there.
I’m a little scared. I already had a bit of an immediate emotional post-“ick“tal© outburst or two. That doesn’t always happen, but sometimes. Just the way epilepsy goes. But what will I wake up to in the morning? I fear I will be sick. When you’ve had so many seizures for so long, you kind of get an inkling for this?
Maybe I’ll get lucky, though. Maybe.
Doesn’t matter? I’ve still got to get him to hospital He can’t deal with the prospect, so I don’t think he’ll be able to do it on his own.
POSTSCRIPT: While editing, indeed post-“ick”tal©. I feel sick. I’ve taken my meds. Before starting this post. Tomorrow will be messy. But it must be done. And no. None of that martyr crap going on here. Please. If you think I’m that pathetic, you’re reading the wrong blog.
Or maybe you’re not? *casts curious glance*