Each bay in the dialysis unit has televisions above the bed so we’ve all seen Bannon and Musk with their Nazi salutes, testing the sensibilities of confused Republicans. Germany titillating the far right and Badenoch slipping between the sleazy sheets of Farages populist policies. Even us invalids are watching intently. My liberal friends start every conversation with the worlds gone mad.
Has it?
The money makers have bought and taken over the asylum. Bullying and grabbing the reigns of power. I’m 76 in a matter of days and clinging on to life. I want to be around for 2032 when the asteroid is meant to strike, I want to be here when misguided scientists use their skills for saving humanity instead of playing AI games.
Who needs a robot to hoover? Who needs robots cleverer than humans. In yesteryear we built stone walls and thatched cottages, that are still standing, who needs robotic hands to build. What are we replacing manual work with? If twenty four hours have to be filled with something then let it be work on behalf of all of us not to fill the pockets for the likes of the orange fart.
The world needs a reset. I’m not angry as much as disappointed I’m being kept alive for what?
If I’m going to carry on living I want my world to be safe and full of bees. I want my shops to be small and interesting I want the young folk to have places to live. I want a world of greenery and kingfishers not war torn rubble.
But somehow we are letting the selfish dictate.
When will we come to our senses?
It all seems so simple. Choosing peace over war. Choosing compassion over greed. Choosing kindness over meaness. Them and us – us against them..
I lie on my dialysis chair, three times a week and receive exemplary care from Indonesian nurses. Four hours of being tended to by a band of helpful Philipino servers who are over here to make money for their families back home.
Haven’t we all become weary. We are all one, but the disruptors would have us believe the world is divided, killing each other for rocks and minerals, we’re playing homage to a band of arseholes who want, want, want. And they get, get, get because we have become tired of fighting.
The world is tired of poverty and greed.
The world is exhausted from defending itself against the liars who are in control
Toast and biscuits are served up by the nurses from Manila. Boiling hot water in little plastic mugs are handed out. They call me Madam or Mother. They are paid a pittance and still find time to smile. One of the nurses sings her way through my four hours of cleansing. They phone my home if potassium levels are high or rising blood pressure sends the machine into over drive. They start at seven in the morning and leave at 8.30 at night without a word of complaint.
The dialysis machine whirs as the blood is taken out of the body. Watching the dark red liquid travel through plastic tubes, my life blood on display. A great big machine taking place of my kidneys, monitored by a band of trustee nurses whilst the machine beeps different messages. A short beep after the blood pressure is taken. A long beep if the lines get squashed by bending forward or sitting up. A five second babble of rapid beeps to indicate the session has ended. That sound brings the nurses to your bedside with antiseptic wipes and words of encouragement.
No-one complains. I’m being kept alive by an overworked NHS. Not one Indonesian nurse snaps or mithers. Behind their masks the South East Asians remain calm.
And still the mad men out there want to destabilise and wreak havoc.
I don’t know how long I will have to have the treatment but I do know that the stronger I get the more I want to see the end of war games. The futility of fighting. The nonsense of wasting resources and time and money and lives. The sickness of displacing people for the want of land.
When ill health hits it throws life into bold belief.
The only thing we have is our silly little lives, and the likes of Bannon and Musk are part of an unholy team of unwelcome pillocks.
They deserve nothing better than being cast into the dustbins of history.
I haven’t got the wherewithal to demonstrate yet, but when I get my mojo back I’ll find the energy to displace those bastards.
For it’s not only little old me that believes enough is enough millions of people around the world are having a rethink, including my nurse Bong.
We talk of how my bulbs are now poking through, new life is coming and soon it will be spring. Those fascist sympathisers had better watch their backs because us weaklings are getting strong again and it won’t be long before the last shall be first.