You just don’t bloody speak up. And we all know what can happen when the hiding and the bottling up gets to breaking point.
But I’m not talking about the mental health side of things, I’m talking about the physical body and how anything wrong is kept quiet. Out of embarrassment or machismo or sheer stupidity. If it’s Man Flu you don’t bloody shut up but if it’s anything more? Silence.
When my Dad was in hospital after his open heart surgery, he fell squarely in to the sheer stupidity section – He was experiencing unusual tingling in his left arm and didn’t say a thing for almost 24 hours. We all know what that tingling can mean, even he did.
But he chose to stay silent; Didn’t want to hassle the nurses, didn’t want to make a fuss. Dickhead.
The only way we found out was when he whispered it to me when my Mum left the room. I yelled at him and paged the nurse.
This morning it has come to my attention that the entire time I was with him yesterday he was experiencing severe chest pains. He mentioned it in passing to my Mum last night. So let me just reiterate in case you missed it; Dickhead.
So, Dad, I’m going to make you read my blog for the very first time, and this bit right here, well it’s just for you:
At what point does it become acceptable to ask for help? Must you be lying on the floor gasping your last breath and clutching your chest? Cos if you ask me, that’s a bit fucking late. Or is a grave marker how you'd like your grandson to remember you?
