Apologies

As uploading pics is so time-consuming, I’ve had to re-post an earlier blog from 2018 for tomorrow’s Classic Beauty section.

Not that the topic isn’t worth revisiting, however.

Helping Hand

I know how I feel about the man in this story:  I have complete and utter empathy.

Tender love letters have emerged that show the devotion of a British pensioner to the wife he is accused of murdering.
David Hunter, 74, is due to stand trial in Cyprus today after the alleged mercy killing of his terminally-ill wife of 56 years, Janice, 75, last year.
UK lawyers have written to the island’s attorney general asking prosecutors to reduce the charge to assisting suicide amid family pleas to ‘show some compassion’ but have received no reply.
Mr Hunter will die in prison if found guilty of murder.

As to Janice Hunter’s condition:

Mrs Hunter had been suffering from leukaemia since 2016 and her health deteriorated rapidly in the months before her death.
She was losing her sight, couldn’t eat or drink and had constant diarrhoea that meant she needed nappies – but was only given paracetamol by doctors.
Mr Hunter allegedly suffocated her before trying to take his own life by overdosing on sleeping medication in an apparent suicide pact.

And she was quite clear about her feelings:

He has since told his daughter, Lesley, 49, that his wife made her wishes to die clear and talked about it every day in the last six weeks of her life.
‘To begin with, he tried to dissuade her, then he said he would go with her,’ she said. ‘He loved her so much… I’m horrified they were so desperate they thought that dying together was the only way out.’

As you all know, I was in a similar situation when Connie was diagnosed with terminal cancer, and her condition worsened almost daily.  We had so many drugs in the house that it would have been easy for her to overdose;  and because she was in a drug-induced fog most of the time, she was quite capable of OD’ing through pure confusion — which is why I took over the job of giving her the drugs  — and therefore I could have deliberately given her an overdose which would have ended her life.

And I want to be perfectly clear about this:  had she asked me to, I would have, even though my conscience would have scourged me every day for the rest of my life.

As it happened, that fortunately never became an issue.

However, New Wife is a cancer survivor, which means the bastard can always return and cause her massive suffering.  We’ve talked about this often, as her late husband suffered and died from throat cancer — his last months of life having had as much suffering as Connie had from hers — and so both New Wife and I have had the most intimate experience with this situation.

And we want no part of it.

Fortunately, we’re both in decent health (for our age), so the immediate future so far does not look that dire;  but as everyone at our end of the age spectrum knows, that’s a precarious situation.  Both of us have a “Do Not Resuscitate” (DNR) document should it be needed, and we also have a (very private) agreement to cover the “Hunter” situation.  Neither of us wants to go through a painful and irreversible illness, both for ourselves and for the strain it puts on the other spouse, and that’s all I’m going to say on the topic.

Back In Town

Okay, WordPress has finally allowed me access to my own website again, and about bloody time.  (Thanks to Tech Support II — I imagine — for putting things right.)

As it’s the weekend, there’s only one post today — a two-parter — but it’s about a subject near and dear to my heart.

Enjoy.

Back To Business

Man, that was a stinker of a head cold.  New Wife got it first, no doubt from one of the little petri dishes at the school, and it took her a week to get over it.  On her last day of recovery, I came down with it and it kicked my ass all over the place.

Only yesterday did I feel anything like in decent shape to go out in the car and run errands, and today I feel ready to take on the world, albeit in somewhat-enfeebled fashion.

Thanks for putting up with the reduced and, if I may say, mediocre content of the past week, and my bad / indifferent mood.

Normal programming should resume as of today.  And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading off to the range.

Lists

Longtime Reader Newt F sends me the following question:

Yesterday I was online and followed a link to “Top Gun Blogs,” and I was surprised that you weren’t even in the Top 50.  Given that a lot of your readers (including me) would think that you should be, why is that?

Thankee for the compliment, but I don’t think that I can call myself a “gun blogger” anymore, and probably lost the appellation when I switched over from the Nation of Riflemen to The Other Side Of Kim;  and certainly, this latest manifestation of mine, Splendid Isolation, is even further away.

Although if you click on “The Gun Thing” category on the right hand side of this page, you will find over 90 pages of gun-related posts (about five posts per page, good grief), it’s worth noting that jokes and such (“Funny Stuff”), cars (“Drive Time”) and booze/food (“Food & Drink”) have 80, 30 and 23 pages respectively.  Clearly, there’s a lot more than just guns over here, nowadays.

More to the point:  volume doesn’t count as much as quality, and I’m not sure that my recent fevered scribblings about guns are even close to the quality of some of my earlier gunny posts.

None of this matters, of course.  I have no interest in popularity, nor recognition of my writings.  I write for myself, on topics which interest me, and any following I may accrue in so doing is simply a happy concidence.

And you’re all welcome on this back porch of mine.  Just mind yer manners, handle yer guns with respect, don’t spit baccy juice on the floor, and all will be well.

Cheers, y’all…