Honestly I cant deal with this stuff at all. Never could.
A couple years back, my uncle died. He was in his mid 50s, I think? He wasnt overweight or out of shape or anything... big strong guy, always had been.
And then something went wrong... I'm not sure exactly what, but he started getting sick. Lots of funky, scary symptoms. It turned out that his liver was going bad. He had never been a heavy drinker or anything... in fact I dont remember ever seeing him drunk. But still, he enjoyed the occaisional beer, and according to my father, both him and my aunt were fond of wine. Somehow, despite him never going overboard on it, it still damaged his liver way too much.
The prognosis when he went into the doctor was... not good. If I recall correctly from what my father said, the docs had told him that he might have 5 years or so left if something wasnt done. That was horrible as it was.
But... the symptoms he had going into there, they never got better. It all got worse. He'd gotten pneumonia, that disease that preys on those who have already been weakened. More stuff happened, and the news was constantly worrying. But everyone thought he'd pull out of it.
He didnt. Died abruptly. I'll never, ever forget my father coming into my room to tell me about it, so suddenly. That moment is seared into my usually-faulty memory.
And you know what? I cant handle it. It's been a couple of years and I still cant freaking handle it. Even just typing about this now is too much. Here I sit, in a hotel room with this accursed laptop, and just from typing all of this I'm getting pulled into that horrible mindset I get sometimes. The one where, if I dont regain control, I'm going to start smashing stuff. And yell and shout.
Cant have that happening in a hotel, no. So that's all I'll say... gonna go read other topics, stop thinking about this so much.
A couple years back, my uncle died. He was in his mid 50s, I think? He wasnt overweight or out of shape or anything... big strong guy, always had been.
And then something went wrong... I'm not sure exactly what, but he started getting sick. Lots of funky, scary symptoms. It turned out that his liver was going bad. He had never been a heavy drinker or anything... in fact I dont remember ever seeing him drunk. But still, he enjoyed the occaisional beer, and according to my father, both him and my aunt were fond of wine. Somehow, despite him never going overboard on it, it still damaged his liver way too much.
The prognosis when he went into the doctor was... not good. If I recall correctly from what my father said, the docs had told him that he might have 5 years or so left if something wasnt done. That was horrible as it was.
But... the symptoms he had going into there, they never got better. It all got worse. He'd gotten pneumonia, that disease that preys on those who have already been weakened. More stuff happened, and the news was constantly worrying. But everyone thought he'd pull out of it.
He didnt. Died abruptly. I'll never, ever forget my father coming into my room to tell me about it, so suddenly. That moment is seared into my usually-faulty memory.
And you know what? I cant handle it. It's been a couple of years and I still cant freaking handle it. Even just typing about this now is too much. Here I sit, in a hotel room with this accursed laptop, and just from typing all of this I'm getting pulled into that horrible mindset I get sometimes. The one where, if I dont regain control, I'm going to start smashing stuff. And yell and shout.
Cant have that happening in a hotel, no. So that's all I'll say... gonna go read other topics, stop thinking about this so much.
