So, 40 years old tomorrow – not something I expected to see. I can remember when I thought I’d be dead before 1999, it was that far off. I made it to there, so I suppose 40 wasn’t that far away.
My Dad’s health gets worse by the day. Speaking to him tonight it’s clear he hasn’t got long left, but that’s not the saddest part. The fact that he keeps forgetting what is the real problem, then remembering, is really shit. When I was over there last, you could tell each time he remembered – his face crashed. He still doesn’t talk about it, though everyone knows. He’s of that generation, the one that doesn’t talk about bad health. Every phone call he says the same thing, that he’s been a bit poorly, he’s getting better and he just doesn’t know what the problem is.
The elephant in the room is the cancer. Its pretty unavoidable when your weight gets to 7 stone and you can’t get up. No amount of saying “I’m grand” can cover that, but still it isn’t mentioned. I feel like saying something but it wouldn’t be right – what’s the point at this stage?
