Cruel world.

I haven't wrote a blog post in forever, it seems I only ever do when I'm unhappy. They always make me feel better once I have though, hence the reason for this. A lot has happened since my last post, for the better mainly. I now have the most amazing house which is very nearly all complete, exactly how I always wanted a house to be. My dear old Dad decorated it for me from top to bottom, something I'd never have been able to do by myself. And the relationship with the love of my life rekindled. I was in a happy happy place, even though my Dad was ill. We thought it was minor though, the condition he was diagnosed with was 'diverticulitis' - easily fixed just by adding more fibre to your diet. But the change of diet never changed him, he just kept getting worse. After numerous tests & scans, his consultant noticed shadows on his stomach. The massive bloating of his belly that he'd had for months wasn't just 'gas' like they'd thought, it was a build up of fluid called ascites, commonly linked with advanced cancer. He had tests & on all his organs, where everything came back clear. Then they took numerous biopsys from his stomach and the lining, the results took much longer to come back than any of the others, and now we know why. He has a cancer called 'peritoneum mesothelioma'. Caused mainly by the inhalation of asbestos, usually found in the lungs, rarely in the stomach - which is where his is. During all this, I've watched my big strong Dad wilt to a big weak mess, all in the space of 4 months. Losing 3 stone, not being able to eat, not being able to catch his breath, constantly being sick, but still holding on to every ounce of hope, telling me & my Mum he has far too much to live for to go yet. The question that I never, ever wanted to ask, or ever wanted to hear the answer to, was the one of two words - "how long?" This was put to his consultant, to which the reply was; "unfortunately, it will be weeks, not months." So my big strong Dad who's worked all his life up until 2 months ago, the one who was always solid as a rock propping me up whenever my Mum got ill again, the one who took me back & fourth to Brighton whenever I asked, the one who drove all the way to Grays Morrisons when I was pregnant & craving a certain pizza only they sold but our local had run out of, the man who cried with happiness instead of shouting at me when I told him I was expecting a baby at 17, the one who used to take me to ballet & tap class because my Mum was always too ill to, and the one who taught me how to ride a bike and how to swim, is dying. The fact he was a serious alcoholic for years on end, ruined his liver & was given less than 3 months to live unless he sort help, didn't kill him is quite ironic. This will be what does. He's been completely dry for over 20 years and totally turned his life around, only to be told a week after his 63rd birthday that there is virtually no hope. I'm just so incredibly proud to have a Dad like him, because he truly is the best Dad & Grandad I could have ever wished for. I'm so happy for the fact he changed his ways all those years ago and he had the chance to a) have a child (ME!!!!) when he thought he was going to die, and b) got the chance to see & be super duper close to his grandson, which he never in a million years thought would happen in his lifetime. Whatever time he has left I'm going to makesure every second is made the most of, not mope around but be happy for the fact I've had the privilege of him being my Dad for this long. Best man in the world.