Post by DC on Aug 18, 2008 18:22:39 GMT
Hey-ho. I'm not the usual one for the dragging of social life onto the board, but then I don't often have workmates texting pictures of c0cks. But this is a bit different and kinda hits the base with regards to the GLB persons as well as not keeping it a secret from all others (couple of people know about it already, well some of it) etc.
Basically bit of a few shitty weeks that I shall condense below:
Granddad was diagnosed with a dicky heart valve, that was causing him to retain water, that was causing him to have breathing difficulties, that resulted in a mild heart attack, that sent him to hospital, where pneumonia got him, but wasn't really an issue - but the constant stress on his heart is.
All set for tests and such, getting him home, getting him well enough to have heart surgery.
And so I've just taken the call from my mum saying they've given him days to a week, and have started him on a morphine drip into oblivion.
So, yeah. If I haven't quite been myself, or made unusual decisions or been somewhat distracted - now you know why. Same goes for the GLB thing. The whole gameplanning, organising etc has been a bit up the wall. My head's a bit of a mess.
Not a sympathy drive, just venting, dealing with it, y'know.
Anyway, a condensed version of my Granddads life:
Born in St. Helens, raised in Prescot just up the road. Had 1 tooth out at age 7. Dentist offered to do the rest of them for a few pence more. Toothless by 8. By 11 he was also a 40 a day cigarette smoker.
Dropped out of school at 14, as you were supposed to in those days, worked as a joiner and bricky with his Granddad. Learnt the tricks of the trade and at 18 (with a set of falsies) started courting Kath Gilgannon 2 years his senior, and 2 inches taller. Coincidence? Or just a short arse? I'll let you decide.
He became a fulltime bricklayer - getting a good reputation around the local area to the extent that he was regarded as one of the best. He did all the hard jobs - working in asbestos lined suits in asbestos lined furnaces on full fire to lay new courses of brick in temperatures that boiled the blood in 7 minutes even through all the protective gear.
He did steeple work. He did cooler towers (bricking up the insides of those concerete monstrosities) without rope or scaffolding. Just a plank and a carry ladder. He worked on 3/4's of the houses in Prescot, and all over the northwest.
He fell off two roofs - and landed in sand twice, because he was a jammy sod.
Sometime between '58 and '61; he went off his motorbike, broke both his legs, and lay in a ditch covered in petrol with the bike lay over him. Some bloke came up and offered him a cigarette. Choice words were spoken.
He spent that entire Christmas on some workers comp that amounts to about £10 a week these days. He was better off for being injured, because his mates who were layed off in Christmas periods got sweet FA.
They had kids. 3 in total, though a 4th was stillborn - and I had the honour of taking his first name.
They ended up with grandkids.
He got pneumonia in 1990 and was given months to live if he carried on like he did. So he quit smoking overnight.
Unfortunately he'd cacked his lungs something rotten, and decades of brick dust, fibres and poor working conditions took their toll.
I think he's 78. Still married to Kath.
Basically bit of a few shitty weeks that I shall condense below:
Granddad was diagnosed with a dicky heart valve, that was causing him to retain water, that was causing him to have breathing difficulties, that resulted in a mild heart attack, that sent him to hospital, where pneumonia got him, but wasn't really an issue - but the constant stress on his heart is.
All set for tests and such, getting him home, getting him well enough to have heart surgery.
And so I've just taken the call from my mum saying they've given him days to a week, and have started him on a morphine drip into oblivion.
So, yeah. If I haven't quite been myself, or made unusual decisions or been somewhat distracted - now you know why. Same goes for the GLB thing. The whole gameplanning, organising etc has been a bit up the wall. My head's a bit of a mess.
Not a sympathy drive, just venting, dealing with it, y'know.
Anyway, a condensed version of my Granddads life:
Born in St. Helens, raised in Prescot just up the road. Had 1 tooth out at age 7. Dentist offered to do the rest of them for a few pence more. Toothless by 8. By 11 he was also a 40 a day cigarette smoker.
Dropped out of school at 14, as you were supposed to in those days, worked as a joiner and bricky with his Granddad. Learnt the tricks of the trade and at 18 (with a set of falsies) started courting Kath Gilgannon 2 years his senior, and 2 inches taller. Coincidence? Or just a short arse? I'll let you decide.
He became a fulltime bricklayer - getting a good reputation around the local area to the extent that he was regarded as one of the best. He did all the hard jobs - working in asbestos lined suits in asbestos lined furnaces on full fire to lay new courses of brick in temperatures that boiled the blood in 7 minutes even through all the protective gear.
He did steeple work. He did cooler towers (bricking up the insides of those concerete monstrosities) without rope or scaffolding. Just a plank and a carry ladder. He worked on 3/4's of the houses in Prescot, and all over the northwest.
He fell off two roofs - and landed in sand twice, because he was a jammy sod.
Sometime between '58 and '61; he went off his motorbike, broke both his legs, and lay in a ditch covered in petrol with the bike lay over him. Some bloke came up and offered him a cigarette. Choice words were spoken.
He spent that entire Christmas on some workers comp that amounts to about £10 a week these days. He was better off for being injured, because his mates who were layed off in Christmas periods got sweet FA.
They had kids. 3 in total, though a 4th was stillborn - and I had the honour of taking his first name.
They ended up with grandkids.
He got pneumonia in 1990 and was given months to live if he carried on like he did. So he quit smoking overnight.
Unfortunately he'd cacked his lungs something rotten, and decades of brick dust, fibres and poor working conditions took their toll.
I think he's 78. Still married to Kath.