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#lewey
It’s a slow slide to somewhere else...
 He shuffles, stumbles stammers and he sleeps.
 He knows I am his brother. I help him go for a wee in a bowl, we’re standing by the commode.
 He shuffles back to his comfy chair 
but only with my help. 
“Are you my brother?” “I am,” I say. Six years is a biggish gap between siblings.
 ‘Our Brian’ tolerated me... 
”Take Chris to the pictures”... ”Aw Mum, I’m 18... he’s only 12!!!” 
He headed on out with his mates, smirking, waving a ciggie and a beer.
 But, when he needed a whizzo batsman for his cricket team, who knew?
 I was strangely unavailable... But, I capitulated and said “OK I’ll play for you!” We won! At 81 he shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps. He employed 300 people in factories overseas, 
spoke with authority, negotiating with emperors - always with total ease. Today he talks in whispers, his larynx squeaks; 
clatters like a broken pipe, every time he speaks...
 He shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps ...for most of every day.
“ I am your brother aren’t I?”
 “You certainly are”, I say. He was the head of magistrates handing down the law... I joked... I called him ‘hang ‘em high Bri’, 
him judging slightly to the right of Atilla the *** 
I remind him of his past... and we smile ... (because of course it wasn’t true)....
 The last thing to die will be his sense of fun. He shuffles, stammers, stumbles and he sleeps. He played prop forward for Moseley’s first fifteen, maybe his problems started way back when...
 too many head clashes, line outs, scrum downs...
 That’s the last thing you’d think about back then. But there’s long term damage you might do...by just ‘being’. He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, 
dummies and scores in his dreams...as he sleeps. He even went to garden parties at the Queen’s Equery’s behest as well as, whilst in India, often - he’d be a Maharajah’s guest. And, when you mention it, he just smiles wryly
 and stares, with rictus grin. He IS in there! But that’s the trouble though... sometimes he IS locked IN! He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, smiles -
 and he does love to rest. But sometimes he will rally with a string of memories all lucid and true... and, if there’s food involved well, he’ll be at the table way ahead of you. That’s the quick shuffle! He makes good progress 
through all his favourite stuff, Then he’ll lie in his reclining chair 
and enjoy that customary nap 
You watch him closely - making sure he’s still breathing - thank heavens for that!
 He stumbles, wheezes when he talks -
 and shuffles when he walks... He shuffles, stumbles...then he sleeps! “You are my brother aren’t you?” “You know I am - for keeps! Love you Bri!”
0
Jul 7, 2024
Jul 7, 2024 at 3:22 AM UTC
Foxtrot Oscar Mr Parkinson
It’s a slow slide to somewhere else...
 He shuffles, stumbles stammers and he sleeps.
 He knows I am his brother. I help him go for a wee in a bowl, we’re standing by the commode.
 He shuffles back to his comfy chair 
but only with my help. 
“Are you my brother?” “I am,” I say. Six years is a biggish gap between siblings.
 ‘Our Brian’ tolerated me... 
”Take Chris to the pictures”... ”Aw Mum, I’m 18... he’s only 12!!!” 
He headed on out with his mates, smirking, waving a ciggie and a beer.
 But, when he needed a whizzo batsman for his cricket team, who knew?
 I was strangely unavailable... But, I capitulated and said “OK I’ll play for you!” We won! At 81 he shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps. He employed 300 people in factories overseas, 
spoke with authority, negotiating with emperors - always with total ease. Today he talks in whispers, his larynx squeaks; 
clatters like a broken pipe, every time he speaks...
 He shuffles, he stammers, stumbles and he sleeps ...for most of every day.
“ I am your brother aren’t I?”
 “You certainly are”, I say. He was the head of magistrates handing down the law... I joked... I called him ‘hang ‘em high Bri’, 
him judging slightly to the right of Atilla the *** 
I remind him of his past... and we smile ... (because of course it wasn’t true)....
 The last thing to die will be his sense of fun. He shuffles, stammers, stumbles and he sleeps. He played prop forward for Moseley’s first fifteen, maybe his problems started way back when...
 too many head clashes, line outs, scrum downs...
 That’s the last thing you’d think about back then. But there’s long term damage you might do...by just ‘being’. He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, 
dummies and scores in his dreams...as he sleeps. He even went to garden parties at the Queen’s Equery’s behest as well as, whilst in India, often - he’d be a Maharajah’s guest. And, when you mention it, he just smiles wryly
 and stares, with rictus grin. He IS in there! But that’s the trouble though... sometimes he IS locked IN! He stumbles, stammers, shuffles, smiles -
 and he does love to rest. But sometimes he will rally with a string of memories all lucid and true... and, if there’s food involved well, he’ll be at the table way ahead of you. That’s the quick shuffle! He makes good progress 
through all his favourite stuff, Then he’ll lie in his reclining chair 
and enjoy that customary nap 
You watch him closely - making sure he’s still breathing - thank heavens for that!
 He stumbles, wheezes when he talks -
 and shuffles when he walks... He shuffles, stumbles...then he sleeps! “You are my brother aren’t you?” “You know I am - for keeps! Love you Bri!”
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