The Last Right by Marianne Thamm (my reading book .txt) 📗

parents, with my dad, how it’s a good one, that he loves and cares greatly for me. I think how or what I can do to get closer to him, like we were when I was in hospital in London with him while my mom was at home in South Africa after a lump was removed from her breast. I think of this boy of eight and his rock of a dad who held it all together, and how close we were then. I suppose some separation comes with age?

He felt that comments from others about his closeness to Patsy were sometimes “cutting”.

I am not a child. I have to grow up. I think it is the lack of female interaction in my life, that soft side of a woman who sees my heart for what it is and who I am. Comments were made about how I demand a lot of my mother’s attention, have always demanded a lot of her attention, at the very time when I needed support the most from her, the kind of support only a son could feel from a mother, different but not more important than that which a father could give.

His diary mentions one evening listening to their raised voices in the room next door: I sense or hear raised voices arguing? About me?? I just sense that. I do not know.

In an attempt to reach out to Neville, Craig bought him a “really huge” Father’s Day card. I write words to my dad from my heart. Things that men don’t usually say. It is a pity the way men are with this. I write many things. He likes the gifts and manages to fit one of the huge jellybeans I also got him into his mouth. Really they are monsters, he chews, he loves them, he reads the card, it makes him laugh a little… This was my way of trying to creep, to get, to penetrate his heart and to get him to understand that I admire, that I care and love him, that I want only good things for him. I know he appreciates the card, but I wonder if I really got through to him? In my heart, in my mind, I know he has a very soft side behind his tough exterior. I just wish he can see my love, my care for him.

In 2006, when Craig was 26, he decided to move out of his parents’ home and into a flat of his own. It was a decision he initiated with the full support of Neville and Patsy and with the hope that he would gain more independence.

It’s a lovely flat. Warm, cozy and modern. To have my own space, to not get involved in the house’s issues, to do what I want. Nights are lonely, not when I’m watching TV, reading, enjoying supper and my one glass of red wine though. The loneliness comes when I turn off the light when I think of living like this all my life. That’s when I wish I had someone in my life. Even if they aren’t physically there, just knowing that would help.

But after about three weeks, the loneliness and anxiety eventually proved too overwhelming and Craig periodically moved back home with Patsy and Neville, keeping the flat while he attempted, with his psychiatrist, to find the correct combination of medication to help him cope.

After a while, the family agreed to a new arrangement. Craig would spend Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays at his flat and Wednesdays and weekends at home. Craig liked the plan and his parents were supportive of it.

I got through the first three-day plan better than I thought I would. I feel strangely confident. This may swing and I don’t know but I feel there is hope. I am going to get totally back to being self-sufficient and independent, Craig noted.

He began to study for a first-aid exam that was required for the course in fitness instruction. In between, he read, watched television, listened to music and went out to restaurants, often on his own, acutely aware of the couples that surrounded him.

I sit there alone and all I see is couples, couples, family, friends. I sit alone and I have no problem with this. Am comfortable with it. I walk to my car in the car park. Couples, couples everywhere!! Are they really happy in each other’s company? Do they complete each other? Where is my “angel face” (Craig’s description of the woman of his dreams)?

But sadly, his attempt at independence and finding his own feet was to be short-lived as a series of mounting health setbacks began to whittle away at the tiny bit of freedom he had achieved.

While Craig had been enjoying a measure of stability as far as his health was concerned and he had gone for regular medical check-ups, a series of growths and adhesions began forming around internal scar tissue from his three major invasive surgeries as a child.

The lesions began to cause increasingly painful blockages for Craig. He would be crippled by the pain; the family would often have to rush to the emergency unit of the local hospital in the early hours of the morning.

After his fourth episode he wrote: On the Thursday morning after the Wednesday of the first-aid exam I wake up with extreme abdominal cramps. I know straight away what is happening. I go to the loo. My stomach works, I wake up my parents. Luckily it is Wednesday and I am at their house. Mom takes me to casualty, Dad follows.

Each time Craig was admitted the family would have to explain his health issues to the staff on duty. In many ways the Schonegevels knew more about what was needed than the medical staff.

I tell the sister that I am not going home again like that last time after the drip only to be admitted to another hospital three hours after I get home. She says that won’t happen and that this