My brother was hit by a truck. We don’t know much more than that because all he remembers is being cut out of the tiny Suzuki Swift the crumple zones and airbags of which, not only saved his life, but also folded the car itself into something that closely resembles the puzzle box from Hellraiser.

“He’s lucky really” people keep telling me, the unspoken part of course being “…for someone that has had a Sainsbury’s truck smash into them” I hope, unless they put a weirdly high premium on getting a free helicopter ride. And they’re right (the first lot, not the helicopter freaks). A fractured pelvis, hip, ribs, spine, elbow, multiple head stitches, internal and mental trauma, blood clots, infections, bruises and a projected six months of physiotherapy IS much better than the alternative.

I love my brother fiercely, and that, by the way, isn’t a given. But I do, and as the oldest sibling I can’t help but think, not that it was my fault, but that I could or should have done something. Its a odd ghost of a feeling that evaporates under any scrutiny, only to reform in some other dark corner of my brain. It’s indulgent bullshit, dangerous bullshit at that.

I do know that if I could take the pain from him, or the stress from my mom, or the naked exhaustion coming from my dad, and take them for my own instead, I wouldn’t hesitate.

I’ve always hated the cliche “I hate hospitals”, because of course. I do find them difficult though, and it isn’t the smell, or anything like that. It’s the kaleidoscope of tiny details as you walk down the ward, a busy mind filling in the vignettes of misery. I suppose that is to say – sick people are the worst thing about hospitals and the obligation of empathy makes me tired.

My little brother is strong though, a gentle silverback of a man, stubborn too. All traits to that will serve him well in the upcoming months and if he concentrates on getting better I can try and keep everyone’s else sane in the meantime.

Btw the NHS is truly a marvel, and no hyperbole intended, a wonder of the modern world. One of the few thing in Britain we have to be proud of. So fuck the tories, and double fuck the whole political class in general for becoming the seething ratking of grubby corruption and a self serving pantomime that is allowing the NHS is suffer a death of a thousand cuts. Triple fuck Jeremy Hunt for gladly being the face of this sabotage – may he be spat on so often that he never sees another sunny day. And a fistful of fucks you any of you that voted tory.

Hug who you got, and tell the rest you love em folks, because there are plenty more trucks.

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