(Source: theinternetaccordingtoadrian)

I don’t speak in public much - but I think I have it nailed: if you want to make a good speech, tell the truth as you see it, as simply as you know how. Even if you that means you’re just saying one sentence statements, one after the other. 

Because if you don’t, then you can get lost in Trying To Make A Good Speech. And that mostly sucks for everyone.

But if you do, then you will at least tick the basic box: Get to the point. 

And if you’re on your game you’ll find that - by simple virtue of the fact that you’re telling the truth and that’s easy - you can find some space between the sentences to add the odd grace note or wry aside. Pchew! You’ll look like a pro.

And, if God smiles on you, you’ll do something like the video above where, it seems to me, around about the 4m30 mark, Louis CK surprises himself at the depth of his feeling and the profoundness of the truth he was speaking. 

Leon Rhodes plays guitar like a psychopath showing you the knife he’s going to use to kill you. 

Women. They are the greatest ones. (From Bees In Paradise, 1944 - the song is 4 minutes in. The rest of the film is BIZZONKO)

immlass:

Don’t Talk - Angry Voicemail (Uncensored) (by AlamoDrafthouse)

This is why I go the the movies at the Alamo. NSFW.

lazenby:

Why do I find this touching?

A thousand times this.

Dylan & Herb - Rawk (Taken with instagram)

immlass:

grayeveryday:

Artist?

Art Seller. No, really.

nevver:

Royal Art Lodge

Current status

(Source: tofuttibreak)

We just had it confirmed that Herb did in fact have a stroke on last Thursday night. The neurologist came into Wythenshawe (an honour that shouldn’t be underestimated) to tell us herself and was super awesome about it: direct, polite, a real expert.

So me and Gem and Dr Internet (and a good deal of you too) had no doubt come to this conclusion days ago - but it was different to hear it actually confirmed: He will likely never have full control of his right arm/fingers again, and the extent that he can ‘rewire’ his own brain can’t be determined. There’s a sad little grey splodge of damaged tissue there in the left hemisphere that isn’t ever going to go anywhere.

The bright side - and there is one - is that the stroke took out only a small chunk of brain - and it looks to be pretty much all based in the part of the brain that tends to control - you guessed it - right arm movement. The prognosis seems to be that we lost an arm but we didn’t lose any of the Herb that *really* matters. Arms-schmarms, I say.

Losing one’s mind - the essential core of who you are - is something that I’ve always had a peculiar dread of. I’ve had nightmares for three nights now about Herb not knowing who I was or just being wiped clean and, late on Thursday when his fever peaked again and he just blipped away for a second - literally just wasn’t there anymore - is a moment that will live in my memory for ever.

What I’m getting at is that when I heard the news my overwhelming feeling was one of relief. I’m still not sure if that’s a thing I want to explore more at the moment.

Anyroad up, the thing is that babies don’t get strokes all that often - and when they do there are three usual diagnoses:

1) That there’s an underlying condition in the heart, lungs, brain, blood or *something* that’s caused it

2) There’s evidence in the blood - ‘markers’ they call them, possibly, that the event was ‘transient’ in nature - in other words super unlikely to happen again

3) Everyone has to shrug their shoulders and just kind of go ‘Well that was weird.’

We’re way into investigating diagnosis 1 and so far there’s nothing. He’s having another MRI and lots more blood-work to investigate more over the next three to four days. I expect that most of the work will stop for the weekend though. I think from where I sit at the moment that I would prefer diagnosis 2 as the thought of 3 is pretty terrifying.

We’ll not be out of hospital until we’ve veered closer to one of the above. After that we’ll have to make some short term and possibly medium and long term decisions about what the fuck is going on - with him, life etc - but that hovers way in the distance; ominous but not insurmountable.

Here’s a thing also: The first thing I heard when Dr Hughes told me that my son and heir had had a stroke was a voice in my head that I immediately thought was my Grandma Ginny saying “Well, do you love him any less for all that?” Trite but true.

So finally, (finally!) thanks to everyone for the cards and the gifts and the incessant upbeat messages and support and all that jazz. Its really, really making a difference. I’ll be honest, there’s only so much emotional bandwidth that I’ve been able to give this situation: its been really nice to know that, once home from the hospital and having hung up the ‘strong husband’ jacket, I can check my emails, read the kind words that you’ve written and have a good cry. (Now I come to write that it makes it all sound like emotional pornography, but as I’m coming to realise over the last few days, the brain really is a funny fucker.)

The ‘too long; didn’t read’ version: The Boy Herb had a fire in his mind, had to give up some motor function in order to put it out but we will emerge victorious or I’m not the king of tattered defiance this evening.

Rambling now. Love you all. Joey

I am mostly writing this down so I don’t forget it. 

On Wednesday night, Gem was saying that Herb was acting like he was ill - and she was all “mums just know, ok?” about it. Dad and I went for a curry and told her to stop being weird. He woke up a few times in the night, which is unusual for him, but was otherwise fine. 

I went to York early on Thursday morning so didn’t see him. Gem told me he was crying and ‘weird’ in the morning when she dropped him off at nursery. ‘Teething’ we said to each other.

Nursery sent him home at about 11. They have a good sense of humour about temperatures, but once they hit 39 degrees they like to send them home. Gem left work and took him home. He slept for most of the rest of the day and was listless and not himself.

At dinner time, while sitting in his high chair and eating normally, Gem noticed that he was listing to starboard and the right side of his face was different to the left. He didn’t seem to be able to use the right side of his body. Rightly, in my opinion, she lost her shit and rushed him to hospital.

Dr Wonderful immediately got him on a worst-case-scenario cocktail of antibiotics and antivirals in case it was some rampant brain virus like meningitis. His temperature spiked to 40 but started to come down as he immediately started reacting to the drugs.

I got the phone call and started to travel back from York at this point. By the time I got to hospital at 10pm he’d cooled down and was pretty mellow in A&E. His right hand side was clearly weak. It was late so I didn’t see him try to crawl.

They took us to the ward at around midnight; after a dose each of the antibiotics and anti-virals. He’d started waving his right arm around a bit and could grip with it. His temperature started to go up again at around 2 and he seemed to have some kind of episode while we were changing him: his eyes went glassy and he shook a little. I’m not sure I can describe it but he was with us, then he went away for a minute, then he came back. 

For most of Friday he just lay there with a temperature while we fretted. When he was awake he was cheerful enough. He was using his right side intermittently - sometimes acting normally, other times appearing weak and/or injured. 

The doctors talked about giving him an MRI and Lumbar Puncture, but hours later told us they were too busy so they’d do it tomorrow. I went home at 11 that night - Gem stayed on the ward. 

On Saturday he appeared to actually notice his injury as his temperature normalised. He stopped using his right arm entirely for some reason - possibly through compensation, possibly because got worse - possibly because he genuinely doesn’t know how anymore. They sedated him and gave him a lumbar puncture - which showed no infection or weirdness - and continued giving him the worst case scenario set of antibiotics etc. 

So its Sunday morning and my boy can’t use his right arm and we’re really not sure why. He’s *acting* like a stroke victim, even down to how he’s holding his hand like a little claw. His temperature is gone, and he’s clearly not unwell anymore. We’re kind of trapped in a limbo after the need for emergency treatment but before the ‘how are we going to cope’ questions can be asked or answered.

There’s an MRI planned for tomorrow (because they dont’ do weekend MRI’s) which will rule out some other things that he might have had and reveal (hopefully) the extent of the neurological damage. 

While we’re on the subject, throughout all of this, Herb’s still the same old Herb. Apart from his gimpy little hand, he’s doesn’t seem changed at all and is taking this better than any of us. 

Similarly all the nurses and doctors at Wythenshawe have been *amazeballs*.Seriously, good people. The NHS is dreadful from every single angle except the point of delivery. We’ve had everything we need and are now safely ensconced in a private room. 

We’ve got a few more days in the hospital coming up and we’ll be floating somewhere around where boredom meets abject terror. Gem won’t go home and I doubt we’ll be allowed to take Herb until the MRI has been done. Please do send us all the spare love that you have knocking around.