There’s just no end to this shit.

And I thought 2016 was a fairly shitty year…

On the domestic front, familial illness takes its toll on them – and on us/me.

Emergency surgery for Mum just days before Christmas strangely knocked the stuffing out of me.

Said like that I just seem determined to confirm that this is all about me – that I am a selfish bastard… but whilst Mum is home, she is clearly still recovering and whilst I am grateful that she is home and that she is recovering (as opposed to being cold and dead and mouldering or just plain old ash) I feel pretty much betrayed by the cosmos.

I thought we had an agreement, Cosmos, that you’d lay off us for a wee while. But no. Boom. It’s 2.30am on a December morning and I’m falling out of bed to answer an insistent ringing that ends with me driving Dad and following an ambulance to Accident & Emergency at our local General Hospital.

I thought she was going to die.

It was all so sudden and unexpected – and I thought: this is how it happens – this is how you lose your Mum – to some bastard opportune complication in the middle of the night in a grubby, over-populated General Hospital A&E, whose Portering staff seem never to have heard of simple fucking human decency and where the wee young nurse tending to her can’t work out (from simple fucking observation) that your Mother is truly ill and that fucking paracetamol and a poorly inserted IV drip just don’t fucking cut it.

It all came good in the end.

My Mother is losing internal organs and bits at a rate of knots. But you’d never really know. Not looking at her anyway.

Except – every bit she loses, she is just a wee bit reduced. And me/the rest of us are fucking knackered.

This shit hurts.

It is sore.

And it is the gift that just doesn’t know when to stop giving…

Because now we have Dad – and his metastasis.

And – because the world just doesn’t fucking stop just because you happen to be having a shit time – we (the global ‘we’) have Trump.

And – as if that isn’t enough – not sufficient unto the day – we have the whole fucking fascist-Bannon thing.

And fascists crying over not being called ‘Alt-Right’ – and about the unfairness of liberal-type folks criticising and campaigning against the poor Alt-Right’s fascist, racist, white supremacist worldview, and just being, plain and simple, ghastly and intolerant. I mean – just how much cognitive dissonance does one liberal need to live with to profess to be tolerant but to not, in actual fact, be able to tolerate folk who are intolerant…?

I’ve started to think of Dad’s skin metastasis as a cutaneous malignancy called Bannon the 1st.

Though at least Dad has had Bannon the 1st excised.

I’ve started praying (this agnostic liberal is hedging her bets) that Bannon (that wife-beating; woman-hating; anti-semitic fascist stain – that malignancy) will also be excised.

Before the rest of us are atomised.

Because I don’t think that petitions are going to cut it.

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