The Sunday Post 20

Well this feels a little nostalgic, doesn't it?! Mainly because I haven't written a Sunday Post since the end of Blogmas and I've been dreaming more and more frequently about Autumn/Winter lately. I feel like sometimes I can't express my adoration of those seasons without fear of being branded a blogging cliché, but I'm so over censoring myself.

These past two weeks have been a ride, guys. I caught up with you briefly at the end of June and I was looking towards a comfortably busy and chilled July but my Dad ended up in A&E on his birthday (June 29th) and he was discharged two days ago (July 14th). I honestly feel like I blinked and he was suddenly in surgery. I've spoken candidly about my Dad's cancer story in the past and I eluded to a procedure hovering on our horizons then. After six years, the day had finally come.
I had baked him a birthday cake so we took that in when we saw him on his birthday, the night before the operation, and the guys all had a piece whilst I gave Dad his gifts. I'm not going to lie, the following two weeks were incredibly difficult for me, although the fact they were also difficult for Dad gave me the courage to visit him every day. Each time it felt impossible to step through the double doors and up the two flights of stairs to his ward, especially as I often did it alone, but I made it every time. Please, if I ever think I can't do something - remind me of these moments. I'm capable of much more than I imagine.

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For the first week that he was in hospital, my brother, Luke and I went to stay at his flat to keep his cat Weller company. I had a nice time, actually, although I missed my Mum and the comfort of my own bed. I think being at the flat stopped me falling apart as I had responsibilities - cooking for myself & Matt, feeding Weller and changing his litter tray, buying groceries, taking out the recycling etc - that I would have let slip at home. My favourite park was also just around the corner, so I got to cycle as much as I wanted. Bless my brother for sitting on park benches waiting for me each time.
At the beginning of this week, though, my body finally caught up with my mind and I fell ill both with my IBS and general flu-ish symptoms. It meant I couldn't go in to see Dad because I didn't want to risk him or the other patients catching my illness as well, which I think was probably a good thing because I'd been hovering on the edge of a breakdown for days.

I'm still kind of ill now, but Dad is home and I needed to support him so on Friday morning I went with my Mum to pick him up from the hospital. I went back to his flat with him to help him sort things out (we had some machinery to set up), get some food shopping and watch A Place In The Sun. We have to interact in a new way now, but I value his presence more than I miss his voice.

How has your week been?


  1. So sorry to hear about your father. That must have been such a stressful time. At least he's been discharged now and he can recover at home with you around! x x


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