…it would sound like Vincent Price in the Michael Jackson Thriller song. Creepy and eerie and taunting.
If cancer had a face it would be twisted and ugly and distorted.
If cancer had a conscience it wouldn’t take over innocent people’s bodies and minds. It wouldn’t cause pain and fear.
(image from Medical News Today)
But it doesn’t. Instead it’s stealth like in it’s progression; silently attacking, spreading, taking over.
Last time I posted about my Dad’s illness I was full of admiration for how he’d continued to live a full life; travelling and socialising and eating out.
Since then his condition has deteriorated fairly rapidly. And now we’re faced with the finality of his last few weeks, as confirmed by a palliative care consultant.
Now talk of hospice admission, sticks for support and a wheelchair is our horrifying reality. Life changing days ahead where things will never be the same again.
I’m full of sadness. Fear. Hatred. Upset. Anger. So many destructive emotions as we try to come to terms with a life without him in it. We’ve known the time would come. It’s played on our minds, silently taunting, for over 2 years now. But all of a sudden it’s really real. There in front of you. Palpable loss. It hurts so much.
Hold your family tight, people. Spend fun filled days and joyous evenings together. Hug each other. Don’t keep secrets. Say things that need to be said. Show you care.
You don’t know how long you have left.
Thanks, as always, for reading.x