Papa

My Dad is great. Fact.


He never judges me, no matter what I do (and I've done some fairly ridiculous things). He cheers me up when I'm sad. He gives the best hugs. He is the wittiest person I've ever met. For all these reasons, and so many more, I'm so so lucky to have him .

Although, judging by this photo (taken in 1967!) his dress sense was no better then than it is now. My Mum was quite the little hottie though, wasn't she?!

I'll be back later on with a more substantial post but, for now, I just wanted to wish all the lovely Dads in the world a very Happy Fathers' Day!

Pops

Dear Dad,


It's been a while since I mentioned you (and the dreaded c-word) on my blog. I guess I've tried not to think about it too much. If I didn't think about it then it wasn't really happening.

You went through chemotherapy at the end of last year. Let's face it, that was a horrific time. You changed into someone I didn't recognise. Gone was my big, strong, dependable Dad. You were frail and weak and you looked different. The steroids bloated you, you lost your hair, your fingernails fell out. You hobbled when you walked because the nerve endings in your feet were damaged. It upset me to look at you, to see how in pain you were.

Radiotherapy wasn't exactly a walk in the park either. Seven weeks of daily hospital visits. I missed the brunt of it because I was at work but Mum went with you every day. She drove the 70 mile round trip most days because your feet were worse than ever. You were tired. So unbelieveably tired. My Dad, who was always up with the birds every morning, started sleeping in. For the first time ever. As I left the house each morning it was strange looking at the empty window where before you'd always been, waving me off to work.

Then the treatment ended. As suddenly as it had begun. And, gradually, life became a little bit more normal every day. But there was a wait of a few weeks before you saw your Consultant. Those few weeks were strange. Limbo. Waiting. Anticlimactic.

You saw her yesterday and she's pleased with how well you've coped. She doesn't need to see you for six months in fact. Your PSA level is down to 0.1, from 29. You're basically as well as you can be.

I'm happier than you could ever know, Dad.

Love,

Helen xx

Joyeux anniversaire à mon papa!

Today is my Dad's 65th Birthday.


I've bought him an Ariel Atom driving experience and some Hotel Chocolat chocolates. Later on this afternoon I'm whisking him and my Mum off to the Malmaison in Liverpool for the night. They deserve a night away and a little bit of decadence. Plus I get to have the house to myself. Hurrah.

I love him for way more than 65 reasons but here are just a few:

1) He always makes me laugh. Always. He's ridiculous and daft and makes up stupid jokes. He drives my Mum crazy and often moves things to make her think she's going mad. He's a complete joker and I adore it.
2) The only times I've ever seen him cry are when family pets have died. He's a big softie at heart but rarely shows it.
3) He loves my Mum more than anything in this world. They've been married almost 40 years and he still holds her hand when they sit on the sofa together.
4) He can fix and mend anything. Seriously, he's the handiest man ever.
5) He never lets me down. Ever. He's been my taxi, my shoulder to cry on, my bank and my removal man more time than I can remember. And I'm so thankful that, although these days I make far fewer demands on him, he'll always help me in any way he can.


Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you xxx

In your face, cancer

My Dad got his post-chemo scan results today...


The cancer in the lymph nodes surrounding his stomach has gone. Completely. Not a trace remains. His full body scan also showed that, touch wood, there are no metastases anywhere. Only the prostate cancer remains and that should either be treatable or maintainable. He'll know more when he sees his Consultant in a few weeks. (His appointment should have been last week but was cancelled due to the snow. She kindly rang today to give him the good news)

So yes, today is a great day. It looks like he's fought off the cancer that was the main problem, leaving only the more manageable behind. My Dad is a living legend, I bloody love him I do. And it looks like he'll be around for a good while longer yet.

The only casualty from this? Slimming World. I've forsaken tonight's session in favour of fajitas, sparkling wine and ice cream. This is something to celebrate, after all.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to give my Dad a huge cuddle and spend some time with him, without the Sword of Damacles hanging over us.


*The picture is of my Dad, taken in the 80s. He was an incredible table tennis player. Gotta love that moustache too.