A few more days have passed now and it's Saturday Lunchtime. I’ve got a good handle on what's in store for me and what I am going to tell the kids while keeping my fears under-wraps.
Up rocks the eldest from Uni for lunch, we're having spill the beans on toast. Hugs all round and the usual catch-ups. We get a bit of lunch out of the way and I call the youngest down as I need to tell them both something. Typical teenager, always in his room, except when he wants stuff. We are all sat in the living room and I'm thinking 'are we sitting comfortably children, then let's begin'.
The daughter knows that I'm a bit poorly, chest infection is all I'd said when she rang to wish me happy birthday on D-Day earlier that week.
So I told them. Carefully, slowly and openly, what had happened in the past few weeks. They're both smart kids and deserve the truth. Not the whole truth.
I didn't tell them it was a 3-6mth terminal diagnosis and I didn't tell the it had spread to my brain. My daughter was doing her final years Psychology Degree and knows her biology. Telling her that would rip her to pieces.
But the treatment plan and chemo cycles, drugs I'll be on and what it could mean longer term. I explained that Cancer is nasty, but things are getting better year by year. Stopping often to give it time to sink in and ask any questions. Slipping in a few funny ditties and metaphors to keep it as light as I could. Telling them that I wasn't taking this lying down and will be fighting this tooth and nail.
Stating that there was no way I was going to miss seeing the eldest through graduation in 12 months and the youngest into through his O Levels and into college. That was the secondary goal. The actual pressing one, was to see my daughter to her 21st in 8 or 9 weeks’ time and a long shot at still being here at Christmas and able to enjoy it.
Tough going. An absolutely fucking horrible thing to go through. I'm roaring my eyes out now replaying it in my head, even though we're well past that target and I'm still here.
Both the kids took it really well. I hope they did, because with things like this you never really know until a long time afterwards. They both declared that they'd be here and help whenever they could. But I insisted they try and put this to one side, I'm not going anytime soon if I can help it and told them both to concentrate on their education for now and make me proud. I did tell the young lad that if he is really feeling it and fancies a bit of primal scream therapy, get arseholed (drunk as a skunk) for the first time in his life, smash up the town and fight everyone he sees that I would be right behind him all the way ha ha.
And it finally ended up, after a few sniffles and tears with a big familam group hug in a million and we were all laughing about the shituation, mostly. the rest of the day was spent doing what families do best, just enjoying each other’s company. Burritos for dinner and a good movie to finish.
The daughter got on a late train back to her digs to let her boyfriend know and the youngest went to bed.
So did I. Happier, as proud as a proud thing with the kid’s emotional strength and unconditional support and cried myself to sleep.