I went to the meditation class last night in the hope that I could draw on some inner calm to aid me during Dad’s appointment with the oncologist this morning. Had I known quite how the day was going to go, I’d have gone out for a few G&Ts instead.
Dad has been up for the past two nights in pain and after our visit to the oncologist who wasn’t exactly bearing great news, we had to make a dash for an A&E some 20 miles away. From the back seat, my dad was making the sort of noises you would expect from a woman in the throes of labour.
There’s been blood and lots of talk of bodily functions. I feel quite queasy, although that didn’t stop me cramming a load of carbs into my gob when I had the chance.
I am trying hard to accept what is. There is no point in worrying about what will happen to Dad tomorrow or next week. Right here, right now, it’s all about trying to relieve his pain and make sure he is comfortable.
I know I’ve just said I am trying not to think of the future, but it would be lovely if he makes it home for Christmas. We’ve booked tickets to take him to a West End show next week and I know how much he’d love it.
It’s in the lap of the Gods. If only there really was such a thing as Father Christmas.
I accept what is.