We are at a music festival as I write this. Yes, I am on the platform for the less physically fortunate. Some adjacent to me look and act almost normally, and some are far worse off than I. There’s a man next to me in a wheelchair who has, I think, some sort of progressive condition, whereby he is very, very physically disabled. He can’t control any part of him as far as I can tell. He is, therefore, TOTALLY reliant on his companion. I’ve no doubt that she describes herself as his ‘ carer’ without any sense at all of what the word means, or as it’s defined in the dictionary. He is spasming in his chair, and has done for the 2 hours we’ve been here, whilst she sits on the edge of the platform, legs dangling off, on her phone, with her earphones in, in front of him without keeping an eye on him. Every 30 minutes or so she glances around at him. If he started to choke, or even passed away, she’d not notice, not seeing him or being able to hear him because of her earphones in.

Wendy has several times gone over to him and moved a leg that has fallen off his footrest, or adjusted his clothing to make it more comfortable for him. She evidently cares more about him than his ‘ carer ‘. It’s scandalous that she’s paid to do a job and she really can’t be bothered to at all.

At one time he was probably ‘ normal ‘ at one time, and this is how it is now for him, here with a stranger that never knew him when he was unaffected, and doesn’t care either. To her, he’s just some disabled bloke.

For sure a similar destiny would have awaited me had I not surprised the doctors and turned out not to be brain damaged severely. The initial interest from friends always dies away within a few years ( or less ) and then you are left with one or 2 occasional visitors and the odd family member who fits in a semi regular visit to the ‘ Care Home’ that you essentially go to exist in. This poor guy may well have clear thoughts that he just can’t express in any way, and may well just want it all to end but can’t make that happen.

Take it from me ( and today is 2 years since I very nearly succeeded ) suicide IS painless ( or can be ) and it is easy once you get your head straight around it. For me it was extremely straightforward, no dread or nerves or regrets, just another task to finish. I don’t regret it at all. At the time it was the right thing to do, and I don’t do prevarication.