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

When I used to play golf on Wednesdays, the three guys I used to play with used to talk to me on the practice putting green. They were in their sixties and seventies.

They used to say that I was the luckiest man alive, that I lead the life we all wish we had. “You just come and play golf on a Wednesday afternoon, no work.”

They did not know what they were saying. They had wives, children, grandchildren and all had had successful careers.

I look so bloody normal to the eye.

My scarred body. My learning disabilities – work? Good health?

Hell no… I was living in my personal hell.

People should learn not to judge a book by its cover and think the book looks good when they see the hard cover and not even open it; maybe the pages are torn, shredded to pieces.

Wednesday, 29 July 2009 3:36 PM

I was awake very early this morning, breathing, trying not to think too much. When I did put my feet on the ground I said out loud: “The Fight Begins.”

When I was drinking my lunch (the smoothie that I have concocted) I had to change the hand in which I was holding the glass. It’s only a 500ml-type of beer glass, but it was too heavy to be holding in my left hand as the extra weight caused my arm to get very painful in the area where the tumour is; the pain remained there for two hours. From holding a light glass – I used to be able to bench press my own weight, do pull-ups and chin-ups until the cows came home. After being so hammered with my health, that is where I managed to build up myself.

The last five years have just been a ravaging of my body and old self.

Thursday, 30 July 2009 3:48 PM

This morning very early while lying in my parents’ bed with my mom, I thought of this: All my life I have searched for a deep love and the more I suffered the more I craved it on a deeper level.

I never experienced acceptance and love from the world really. My mom gave me this unconditional, pure, consuming, totally unselfish, deep, heart, soul, soft, protecting love.

It is the type of love I needed because of the pain of my disease and all that went with it. As I became more affected our love grew, many said it was not healthy, not normal and tried to stop it; unsuccessfully.

It just had the reverse affect when they tried, but my mom has always known that I need it to cope, to be sane.

I looked for this kind of love in girls I tried to meet, but really it was unrealistic to have ever even thought such a love can be remotely duplicated by another life partner. I always thought I would live alone, that nobody truly “got” me.

There was a little of me that believed that it was possible for me, yes me, to be loved intensely by another partner; this has never been so much a physical thing, but an emotional connection. It is beyond that now.

I think I am lucky to be leaving this world with an experience of love like I have with my mom, and that it has not been distorted by a relationship with a partner and the pain that goes with that, because what I have experienced with my mom is so beautiful words cannot begin to do it justice.

Saturday, 1 August 2009 12:26 PM

While Craig was still living with a degree of hope in early 2009, he spoke of getting a puppy, a Norfolk Terrier, for himself. Whereas our Jack Russell, Hogan (named after the famous golfer), was a very popular member of the family, he did not like to be picked up and made a fuss of. Craig needed to hold and love an animal as so much was being taken away from him. An affectionate dog would help fill a void in his life – a dog he so much needed to help him cope, as he put it.

– Neville Schonegevel

I am looking back over my life like an old man looks back on his and I am only 28 years old. All I really see is physical and mental pain, suffering and trauma. Yes, I know I have blessings.

A number of months ago I had the idea of getting a new puppy. (This was a coping mechanism, after having so many of my passions, interests and activities taken away.)

I found the dog I was looking for, it was a Norfolk Terrier. The breed is uncommon in South Africa and was only recognised as a separate breed by the Kennel Club in Britain in 1964 and in America it was recognised as recently as 1979. I am told the only two breeders in the country happen to be PE based. My mom was so supportive of me getting one; she knew it would be something for me to love. My mom and I used to go and visit them after we saw them at a dog show.

I was so happy; the waiting list was a mile long but the breeders said they would make a plan for me (I think on some level they knew I had problems).

I had a name for the dog; I would call him Gecko (just like the tiny lizard). I am so scared of spiders and things, but geckos I love. So much so that my mom calls me to get them out of her sight when she sees them.

My mom loved the name. Anyway, after my last hospitalisation for an obstruction, I said to my mom that there was no way that I could be a parent to a dog, a responsible parent, and that the mature thing would be to accept this. I kept the pictures of Gecko’s parents in my saved