That Dirty C Word

Not the one that rimes with ‘punt’. Or any other word that you don’t say in front of your mother.

Cancer.

A good friend of mine (who if you know you probably know all this already) has recently, these last few days, had his 5 year old son diagnosed with a cancer of the kidney.

5. Years. Old.

Last I heard this morning was that they were going to operate today to either just take a biopsy or to remove the cancer completely (and probably the kidney with it, although I’ve been slightly confused with things I’ve heard from different sources).

The waiting is horrible. So is knowing about it at all. I’m not the most emotional of people. In fact at times I get worried by my coldness. Then something like this happens and everything good. Except everything’s shit.

Oh and work is nutty at the moment, too much to do, not enough time to do it. Customers are going to be unhappy, but this doesn’t really concern me. There are bigger fish to fry.

I think I worry about my responses to things because I don’t respond frequently to things, but that’s probably due to me not having anything bad happen to people who are close to me. When my grandfather died around 8 years ago (gosh it must be more than that actually), it didn’t really concern me, I wasn’t all that close to him. Also old people die, if they didn’t there would be problems.

5 year olds shouldn’t get cancer.

This 5yo is such a great guy, hes such a little character. His is the only nappy I can remember ever changing. I’ll always remember the low grunts that surprised everyone. (NB: this might sound a bit posthumous, don’t worry I don’t have any bad news on that scale) Every time I grunt at a car tonight in the traffic I’ll be thinking of you.

Finally to those involved: “We love you and are praying for you, You’ll do what needs to be done.”

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