It hit me like a ton of bricks.
The words you never want to hear.
The biggest fear.
For as long as I can remember I’ve had a seemingly irrational fear about my dad’s health. With my grandad passing away in his early fifties I always worried the same would happen to my dad. Up until seven years ago my biggest fear was that he wouldn’t be alive to walk me down the aisle. It’s also a lot to do with why I didn’t want to be older when I had children – I knew they may face the same anxiety I went through.
My dad has had ongoing health problems for over a year now. In fact after all he went through last year, we thought things could only get better. How naive we were.
I cannot put into words what you feel when you hear that word. Fear. Crippling oh-my-god-I-can’t-breathe fear. Anger. Confusion. More anger. Questions. So many questions – Why? Where? How long?
The thought of losing either of my parents is more than I can bare. It comes to us all, I know, but all my life I have refused to acknowledge this and been petrified of it. I rely on them for so much. They are the ones I turn to for advice, the ones I talk to before anyone else and, apart from my husband, who know me the best. They are my guidance and my safety net and without either one of them I fear I may lose myself.
So here we are. Biopsies. Scans. Tests. Chemotherapy? Radiotherapy? Surgery? Untreatable.
Who the hell knows. Well a week on Thursday we will. We will stand together whatever the result. And inside I will crumble.