The Last Right by Marianne Thamm (best ebook for manga TXT) 📕

the best of intentions, but it’s not rude to gently tell them to give you space…

Working on a book in these times has not caused me any stress or worry; it has given me the opportunity to tell my story, and this is really because of the person, Sandy Coffey, I am working with. She has made it so easy for me, I feel so understood and comfortable with her. I am the lucky one in so many ways to get to experience more softness that I have craved my entire life…

I don’t ever say anything I don’t mean. It’s so easy to compliment someone, just look for the small things. Like when I phoned this lady and her son answered. He answered and said hello and who he was by name. I have always answered like that too, my entire life. This boy, like me, does not have it easy and lacks self-confidence, but he possesses some of the simple life skills like the way he answers the phone. The world does not see this as a positive quality, but it is.

Why the hell is it so difficult for people to see the simple qualities of an individual and build them up?

Dignitas has the power to make my dream come true; this they know, yet they choose to make me suffer on by ignoring me and dragging it out. They know, too, how I am suffering and they just stay quiet. They knew that all I wanted was to lie in my mom’s arms with legal-free implications and no anxieties. They are treating me in the same way NF has treated me my entire life…

I think that I am entitled to peace, God knows I cannot go on. After fighting as hard as I have all I want is to go on retirement for good. A retirement that is constant in that it’s always the same: peace, peace, pure love, warm and soft.

The rapist will soon be killed by myself. The law has been too lenient with him. It’s time that with my passing IT will be hung, and put to death and hell, just like it has made me live in hell all my life!

Monday, 10 August 2009 8:57 AM

I am just trying to live second by second. Concentrating on a few things to do that bring me a little laughter and joy. Yesterday – my dad has these old sleeping shorts that he got for a gift some years ago, with weird pictures, wording, colours – I thought it’s time this man gets some different shorts to sleep in, as he will never buy other ones in his life. I wanted to bring some humour into my life so I went to the store to get him some others. I found more or less what I had envisaged.

I got two pairs for him. The one had pictures of a vicious dog printed all over it, under the many dogs’ heads which were all baring their teeth were the words “hound dog”. He did not “get it” so I had to explain. We all had a good laugh!

The other pair had the sentence “The rumour’s true”. This I also had to explain to much laughter. Such good medicine.

The sleeping shorts were in a gift bag; on the card I wrote: “Dad, for the love of the Pope, please get rid of the helooha hona-loo-loo shorts.” (These were his old shorts with a lady dancing on them in a Jamaican skirt and the words with the dancing lady read “helooha hona-loo-loo”.) He hasn’t really taken notice of what they said since he got them as a present two years ago.

I told him: “Dad, those pants give me the heebee jeebees, please wear these!”

I thought late last night that I want to have more fun in this way. My old man wears the same old shirts to sleep in, year after year, and I will not “leave” before I get others for him. So I remembered this store I have seen that sells really funny men’s shirts (I must admit that I myself would never wear these shirts for anything else but to sleep in, I am way too conservative).

My dad will still enjoy them though, and wear them to sleep. So, I am off shortly with my mom to that store… I hope my family can laugh more when we return.

Well the store did not disappoint and there was much laughter when I gave my dad two shirts, one saying, “If I gave a shit you’d be the first person I’d give it to.” The other has a male and female stick figure on it. The male, who is holding a parcel, says to the female who is holding a pot plant: “Nice bush”, and the female says, “Nice package.”

Tuesday, 18 August 2009 4:04 PM

My attempt failed over the weekend. Just when I find a way to cope it is taken from me or fails me.

I will persevere though, until the deed is done.

After the last operation I was in this semi-private room (which thank God I was moved into because my mother complained after eight people were visiting the one bed next to me during the first half an hour of my arrival from intensive care). The name of the man in the new semi-private room was John. He was old and had the softest spirit; I think he and I could have been best friends in another life.

He was suffering and was full of bedsores. I used to always reassure him of things. We were on the same meds for anxiety. When he asked me what this medication’s name was because he needed some, the one nurse shouted at me for “infecting” him with the need for the tablets. When he left the hospital he was moved into a hospice-type place near his home in Grahamstown, where God, please, let that sweet soul get some proper affection.

Later