I'm lying in a Premier Inn at Cardiff watching Rampage Jackson fight at Bellator, while my son sleeps sound in the bed next to me.
We've just drove for 9 hours to have our first cuddle with our new Pom Pup, Buster. Two years after we lost Eva we agreed it was time to bring another dog into our family of five plus four cats.
All ideal and faux middle class..
Except I've never been closer to insanity and my wife has never been closer to death. Every little and big thing we do is in the knowledge that it could be the last important shared memory in memorandum.
When my wife was pregnant with our third kid five years ago she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
She had to make a choice to delay her treatment or to induce our boy asap.
In the end she choose to delay her treatment until he had the best chance in the world. When it was over and after weeks visiting her and our son, then when she got out, we visited our son together in his little tank. I remember feeling helpless when there and when I left feeling angry and scared and angry at having to leave my boy behind and guilty that our boy would come home when the other babies and parents in the unit would not experience that.
Anyhow... there's so much more to say but Rampage is about to start..
I've called this '1C' because when my wife was diagnosed the first time I turned to writing and joined a group to vent. My first blog there was called '1A'.. I've posted '1B' earlier tonight and hopefully I can stay sane again by venting here.
The cancer has return, this time in the spine and is incurable. I've woke up every day since diagnosed 6 months ago, with severe anxiety. As the day goes on that intensifies to terror until I finally fall asleep listening to the umpenth podcast to keep The Voice from torturing me. All the while cuddling into Mrs as close as I can and breathing her in.
We've been to a point where I was pushing her in a wheelchair. But now she is up and walking and almost back to her cheeky precious self. But I live in fear and despise the fact that my fear of tomorrow means I can't enjoy today.