I had kind of got used to the idea of him dying of cancer, I knew it was coming, Ive had to deal with cancer and grief so that holds no mysteries. He is well past his sell by date so I was content knowing that he was living on bonus time. He should have died two years ago according to his doctor. I could have coped with his slow decline, I had it all straight in my head.
He had decided not to go into hospital again when his condition got too bad, he was in for nine months last time, he believed that if he went back in he would come out in a box.
He's thrown a spanner in the works now, I didnt expect to ever visit him in hospital and I didnt expect him to split his head wide open and end up in a coma. I dont want to remember him lying in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of him. I dont want to remember him like that. Bastard. I want to remember him as he was when we spent two days wondering around London.
Mates hanging out. Picking holes in the Design museums bike display; 'For ****s sake thats not a half pitch chain'!!!!
Its exposed just how fragile my coping mechanism has been.