Out of the blue

I received this email from my brother-the one who is dying of tongue cancer….

You’ve expressed a level of uncertainty about my intentions.  I plan to live to be about 130 and die in bed with several teenage girls.  I’m serious.

There aren’t going to be any “surprises”.  There isn’t going to be a bad hair day when I decide to hang myself or swallow a bunch of pills.  My mind just doesn’t work that way.

I’ve told you what the end times are going to consist of.  I know the exact spot where it will occur.  Not many people can say that.  I’ll take you there, if you’d like.  If you go west on 31st St. from the Gables you’ll reach the bridge over the Des Plaines River.  Before you cross the bridge, cut off the the right (north) and go down along the riverbank until you can see the flagstone building across the river.  I think we went there to get out of the wind one time when we went ice skating.  Before we were married, me and Heidi built a fire on that spot and fucked while a crowd of drunken Mexicans across the river hooted and jeered derisively.  That’s where the event will happen.

This is the definition of too much information. I replied that I don’t remember a conversation about “expressing a level of uncertainty”. He followed up with this:

You were talking about making plans and you said that it’s hard for you to make plans because you “don’t know what I’m going to do”.  I don’t know if you’re starting to dread coming home because I may have hung myself while you’re at work.  Weakness and poor impulse control aren’t fatal flaws but they aren’t really a problem for me.  I always think about consequences, not just for me for for everyone else, too.  I read somewhere that the children of suicides (and it probably holds true for other family members) are 50% more likely to kill themselves because the example has been set placing suicide in the “acceptable” column.

If I reach the point where I’m absolutely sure that there is nothing in store for me but unendurable pain and I’ll clock out but I want for everyone to know that there was nothing desperate or spur of the moment about it.  I will have withstood all that a man can be expected to take, fought the good fight and I will retire from the field with honor and dignity intact.

Alrighty then…let’s just be blunt.

2 thoughts on “Out of the blue

  1. remember the time you told me about my poor circulation in my feet, you proved to be correct, had my left foot amputated yesterday, strangely it gives me insight into what your b brother is going through.

    ramblings from the qe2 vascular surgery ward

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