One year ago this morning I sat and watched my brother Tony die.
I'd intended to write a lot about Tony, what sort of brother he was, the fact that he'd finally got his life together, his artwork and the various scrapes he'd gotten himself into but I'm afraid I can't. I'm still angry about the way he was abandoned by the health service who are scared shitless to venture outside NICE guidelines even when the cause in their eyes is lost, about the complete and utter lack of coordination even within the same hospital and about how the hospice service is nothing but a glorified human scrapyard. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.
While I'm at it, I'm also unspeakably angry about people who waste their health so if this applies to you: stop smoking, stop eating crap and get some ferking exercise!