Update on Paul

It’s been a while and a lot has happened with Paul.  Unfortunately, nothing good. He has gotten progressively worse since January battling pneumonia, bladder problems, blood issues, a hospital stay - I could go on. He has lost about 25 pounds and all of his meals now have to be pureed. The most serious issue is his ability to swallow. It’s quickly disappearing. This accounts for the mushed meals and weight loss. Not a great scene truth be told. Apparently it’s due to the degenerative brain injury and the damage to his throat 26 years ago.

Feeding him now is no fun – not that feeding an adult man, your brother at that, ever was - but now it’s particularly difficult. He’s prone to aggressive outbursts and shouting – something unlike anything he has ever done. I’ve gotten a few smacks to the head (some likely deserved) just like the old days when brothers fought like brothers should. You share a bedroom with someone for 15 years and the odd racket is bound to happen. He was a good scrapper too who could handle himself back in the day. Tough as nails. Christ, that seems like forever ago.

Visits in general are getting more difficult too. Thursday was especially hard. He kept shouting, asking for Mom who’s been gone almost seven years now. Sometimes he knows this; most times he doesn’t. Music is rarely played anymore, a mainstay of our visits. That is likely the most difficult part of this. Music was so important to our relationship – the bind that helped me get through this shit - and now it’s gone. Jesus.

And the outlook isn’t promising, to be honest. It never really was I suppose, but now there’s an underlying sense of urgency. Things are deteriorating rapidly and they aren’t going to get better. When doctors and staff talk of feeding tubes and comfort care, you know tougher times lie ahead. I’m going to have to make some difficult decisions about his care.  I’m hoping later than sooner. For both of our sakes.

Jethro Tull, Me and Paul

1984 seems like a lifetime ago. For many it is. 30 years.  Jesus, where does the time go?  I wasn’t yet 20, carefree and really naïve - truth be told. Party hardy; university would take care of itself. I had a girlfriend, a driver's licence and I could buy beer. Living the dream. It’s a wonder I’m still here, I was that fucking stupid.

Like all of the crowd I hung around with, music was a big part of my life. It still is today. It’s a thread in a fabric that still weaves through my life. Clapton, Zeppelin, The Who, The Stones, Pink Floyd – all considered legendary back then, certainly today. And rightly so. A few of us had different tastes, but it was all good. I was, and am, unabashedly in love with the blues. I didn’t know much but I knew what I liked. Muddy Waters, B.B. King, Howling Wolf, Bo Diddley, John Lee Hooker, to name a few, topped my playlist.

I also liked folk rock. Dylan, Van Morrison, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Yes, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young – especially Young - got ample play time.

And we all had a favourite album. Zeppelin III is mine, although the Allman Brothers Live at the Fillmore East is a close second. But Jethro Tull’s Benefit album holds a special place – bittersweet that it is. While most associate Aqualung with Jethro Tull, for me, Benefit is the quintessential Tull album.

I stumbled upon it by accident really. I had borrowed Deep Purple’s Machine Head album off my then girlfriend’s brother and it was one of those “double” cover albums with just one piece of vinyl. But jammed in alongside was Benefit. It was love at first sound.

I listened to it a lot and while some of my friends weren’t into it, my younger brother Paul was. Cat, as the boys called him (Juice to me), was three years younger and was a shitload of harmless trouble. Athletic, bright and easy on the eyes, I called him the complete package. That aside, we both fell in love with the album. We’d be in the house or outside somewhere – likely having a beer – and I’d sing a line and he’d sing the next one. And we’d laugh our asses off. It used to drive Mom nuts. Priceless.

But the album had to be returned so I got the cassette, which I still have today. We played it along side of a seemingly endless array of music in carefree days.

Fast forward six or seven years - I can’t recall to be honest - and my phone rings. It’s the call. The one everyone eventually gets, the horrible call. Death of a parent, grandparent, friend – that call.

“Paul was found hanging from a tree in Victoria Park. “

I can’t recall who phoned but I can remember my reaction. It wasn’t good. I’m not sure how long it is before my girlfriend drove me to the hospital. Benefit was playing on the car stereo.

Paul survived but was left permanently brain damaged and today needs constant care. He was 22.

Mom and Dad took care of him for a little over seven years until he moved into the long care facility at Hoyles-Escasoni. Both are gone now and I think the time they cared for Paul took a tremendous toll. Neither were the same after the accident – none of us were – but trying to care for your suddenly disabled son is a pain no parent sure have to endure. He’d be awake at all hours and had to be spoon feed most times. It was, and still is, fucking horrible. They had respite workers come and take him out but life was never the same. Dad worked full time and it was his escape from this, but the pain was evident in his face. What a wonderful man. I miss him dearly. And while Mom and I didn’t see eye to eye on everything, we did get much closer in later years - for which I’m really grateful.

Once Paul got into the home, life for Mom and Dad improved. Dad visited a lot but I couldn’t. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I didn’t visit for many years. I’d see Paul at my parent's house when he came to visit but it was extremely difficult to be with him. 

After the accident, my love of music waned. I’d still listen but like a lot of things, it wasn’t the same. When my turntable broke I never had it replaced and my albums collected dust. But in recent years, after I mustered the courage to visit Paul on a regular basis – once a week now I’m happy to report – music became a bigger part of my life. I digitalized most of my albums, CD’s and cassettes and this past Christmas I got a new turntable.  Hello Fred’s. I started buying albums and the first one was Benefit. It was used and only cost 12 bucks but when I played it and heard the crackling of the needle on the vinyl, it was 1984 all over again.  I was happy and sad at the same time.

I continue to buy albums, CD’s and DVD’s and am slowing rebuilding my collection. Jethro Tull gets a lot of air time as does Zeppelin, Clapton and Pink Floyd. But with every spin of Benefit, I think of Paul and of a better time and a better place.