Gavin: Tick tock...

The wait for the inevitable temperature/rash/diarrhoea looms large every day. But I think the fact that Sonny is home and in good spirits is doing a good job of hiding the fear of being back in the Shittington, There isn't really anything more depressing than being there, waiting four or five days for the ambulance to GOSH whilst trying to find things that his chemo damaged palate will cope with from the local Co-op. It's Zo's birthday in a couple of weeks and then the small matter of Christmas, followed by Ruby's big day and then my not so big one. Last year we managed the end of the year fun but he was in for January so poor old Rubes had the single parent Birthday experience and I had half a Stella in the pub with my wife on mine.
Maybe this will be it. Maybe one of these 40 million cells will eat up the cancer and we'll always just be waiting for something to happen over the next few weeks, then months, then years until Sonny leaves for Cambridge and he's in charge of his illness. I hope so. Forget cancer and all that, the camp beds in the hospital play havoc with me back.