Dunkan T is an artist who's worked for the local branch of Stop The War Coalition since it's beginnings with the invasion of Afganistan. Professionally a street sweeper and a navel veteran who fought in the Falklands conflict, he made protest art, 3D banners and enormous papier mache caricatures of politicians, as well as being the chair and an organiser of STWC.
Yes, an interesting fellow - something of an anarchist and a clown, with occasionally multicoloured goatee and twirly moustache. He's married with a daughter approaching 2 years, and turned out to be a good actor in our production of The Investigation.
He's just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. It's in his pancreas, spread to the liver, and probably elsewhere. He's in constant physical pain, and probably won't survive the next 12 months. We're already talking about him in the past tense, though we've made offers to ferry him to and from hospital, and help out with the home care of himself and his daughter.
He and I were never close - and I've upset some people by saying his pain will make him a short-tempered bastard to care for.
Mr Spock is the older of our two dogs. I clearly remember my parents bringing him home from the breeder, 11 years ago. He was a timid white puppy small enough to sit in my hand, and I chose the name because of his papillion's large triangular ears, which perked up and seemed to swivel like radar dishes at any noise.
He never quite worked out how to use the dog-flap, patiently scratching at the back door until someone let him in or out. He always made friends with people instantly, and tried to get them to play tug-of-war - either that or gaze at them with adoring brown eyes until they gave him some food, which he'd run off with and jealously guard but forget to eat when something - anything - grabbed his attention.
He's been spending most of each day asleep for the past few months, and we've found a growth on his neck. The vet says he doesn't seem to be in pain, and we could spend a few hundred pounds finding out whether he has cancer, but it would be untreatable.
So the dog who sleeps on the end of my bed, and the political socialist who never liked either label - I'm waiting for both to die.
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I'm so sorry.
ReplyDeleteK
Thank you, but it's okay.
ReplyDeleteDunkan is on the kind of painkillers that could stop a herd of rhinos. He's furious at the universe for killing him just as he's found a politics he can believe in and the family he's always wanted. But he also accepts the diagnosis unflinchingly - and is pondering the dilemma of extended painful life with chemotherapy versus short better one without.
Spock of course can't think like that - perhaps he's just vaguely puzzled that he can't climb stairs easily anymore. we've unanimously decided to enjoy Spock's life so long as he's enjoying it.
So that means getting my nose and ears licked in greeting, and having a white furry thing staring intently at my plate whenever I'm eating, occasionally going 'wup' and nudging me with a paw. Just to remind me that although he hasn't touched his bowl, it's only fair that I share my nice human food.
Yeah, he always gets some.
Hi Paul. I didn't think you were still around in the blogsphere - haven't heard from you in ages.
ReplyDeleteDino is the energetic dog now, 2 years old and fascinated by absolutely everything. We're thinking of breeding him, to produce more brown eared streaks of lightning with cold wet inquisitive noses.