My mother just called me from her cell. She is at the hosptial with him. He is in a "Persistent Vegetative State", basically he's brain dead. They give his body two weeks tops before it ceases functioning. He has no chance of recovery and they are now emptying is testicles of all the remaining semen. The doctor is literally jacking him off, my mom is considering pulling the plug and letting him die with some dignity.
I just can't believe this, it's all my fault. If I hadn't had my music so loud none of this would've happened. How could his wheelchair spontaneously shit it out like that? It was a Walk-Pops Z605E, brand-new model. It even had Hydraulics and wheelchair walkman. Where is my god now?
R.I.P Uncle Alfredo Gooch Jenkins
1954 - 2009 (6/17 9:44 pm)
(Also, thanks to the presumptuous, dipshot mod who deleted the original thread thinking it was a joke.)
Heretic-Anchorite
It's not your fault, you didn't plan this
why fear death? death is but a doorway into another realm, just as birth thus death doesn't exist, only life, also life exist within the soul, not body, therefore only death as you know it is impossible.
Don't blame yourself