The Wanlorn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_wanlorn) wrote2008-09-16 10:33 pm
the_wanlorn) wrote2008-09-16 10:33 pm
Entry tags:
Meandering About Dead Things
Yesterday, I mentioned to my flute teacher that I was taking bio because they don't offer geology courses (that I want take) (fuck you, rocks are cool) in the fall.
That led me to thinking, as I was walking to my next class, that next time we go to my aunt's and Paul is there, I should be like, "Tell me about rocks!" And maybe ask him exactly how one goes backpacking with dogs and if you have to reach an official campsite or if you can just pitch tent wherever. I wanted to spend a weekend camping with Robin, you see.
And then I remembered that Paul is dead.
It was a kind of shitty thing to have hit you on the way to Advanced Writing in the Technical Disciplines. I mean, the last thing you want to be hearing about while you're thinking "My cousin is dead" is bridge construction and target audiences.
One of the reasons it's taken it so long to sink in, long past the funeral, is that it seemed so sudden. No one bothered to tell me until he got sick again that "Oh, by the way, Paul used to be leukemiatastic, but he kicked it!"
So, instead of growing up knowing he might get sick again, it was just "Oh, btw, Paul's leukemiatastic again." Then a couple weeks later, "Paul's in the hospital." Then a week later, "Paul's better, he's going home tomorrow."
Then the next day, "Paul died this morning."
I really dislike my family's inability - refusal - to tell other people when something's really wrong. When my mum went in to get a lump on her breast biopsied, she told me a few days before her appointment. And only me and only because she needed to talk to someone. I assume she told my da after the fact. I still don't know if my sister knows.
(Hobviously it came back benign.)
Hell, even I do it. Misjudged the distance between your hockey stick and the floor? Slammed it into the ground and now you can't move your wrist? Screw telling someone, just slap a brace on it and wear long sleeves when you play the next day.
So, yeah. My uncle's dead, my cousin is dead, now I'm waiting for my aunt to die of heartbreak. The End.
That led me to thinking, as I was walking to my next class, that next time we go to my aunt's and Paul is there, I should be like, "Tell me about rocks!" And maybe ask him exactly how one goes backpacking with dogs and if you have to reach an official campsite or if you can just pitch tent wherever. I wanted to spend a weekend camping with Robin, you see.
And then I remembered that Paul is dead.
It was a kind of shitty thing to have hit you on the way to Advanced Writing in the Technical Disciplines. I mean, the last thing you want to be hearing about while you're thinking "My cousin is dead" is bridge construction and target audiences.
One of the reasons it's taken it so long to sink in, long past the funeral, is that it seemed so sudden. No one bothered to tell me until he got sick again that "Oh, by the way, Paul used to be leukemiatastic, but he kicked it!"
So, instead of growing up knowing he might get sick again, it was just "Oh, btw, Paul's leukemiatastic again." Then a couple weeks later, "Paul's in the hospital." Then a week later, "Paul's better, he's going home tomorrow."
Then the next day, "Paul died this morning."
I really dislike my family's inability - refusal - to tell other people when something's really wrong. When my mum went in to get a lump on her breast biopsied, she told me a few days before her appointment. And only me and only because she needed to talk to someone. I assume she told my da after the fact. I still don't know if my sister knows.
(Hobviously it came back benign.)
Hell, even I do it. Misjudged the distance between your hockey stick and the floor? Slammed it into the ground and now you can't move your wrist? Screw telling someone, just slap a brace on it and wear long sleeves when you play the next day.
So, yeah. My uncle's dead, my cousin is dead, now I'm waiting for my aunt to die of heartbreak. The End.
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(Which reminds me, thank you for those links you linked about dogs with cancer. We put our dog down last week, but some of the info was trufax helpful in making him more comfortable. ♥)
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