Hi There!
I've never been a great talker. If something is on my mind I can sit for hours telling you what's wrong in my head when you ask, but I can't find the words to verbalise it. I find it easier to write things down, my mum jokes it would be easier to get answers out of me if she just text me even when she's sat in the room with me. I find writing things down easier to do, I can think about what I want to say, I don't miss anything out. I joined this community last week, so just to introduce myself, and the situation to anyone reading this that hasn't already read what I wrote, and to avoid crying as I write a fresh one, I've copied and pasted my introductory discussion that I posted below. Because as good, and cathartic, as writing may be at times, sometimes it just brings it all back to the forefront of your mind when you just need to leave it in that little box for a while just to catch a breath and feel normal.
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. Catchphrase of the week right there. I don't really know what to say, I don't know how much of a back story to give, or just what to say at all. I've always worried about my little brother, his dad (my step dad) was 57 when he was born, he was always going to lose his dad at a younger age than anyone should have to be without their dad. I never thought it would happen to me, its one of them things that happens on the news, that happens to other people. My step dad is fine, you wouldn't know he is 71 from the way he gets around. It's my own daddy that's not. He's only 48. He has never done anything wrong. I can't say that anyone deserves a brain tumour, but my dad REALLY doesn't.
He was diagnosed in February 2011 - he originally went a few weeks before but he was dismissed from the doctor's surgery with a virus!!! He went back two weeks later to see a different doctor (the doctor who has been the most amazing caring woman I have ever experienced in a doctors surgery) and was rushed to hospital for an MRI. He was still happy and positive. They booked him in to have it removed and told him he would be out by the weekend, and back on his feet in 3 weeks - he even went out and bought himself a bike to get around until he could have his driving license back. I haven't seen my dad walk unaided since February. I haven't seen him walk at all since about October.
Between 6 and 18 months I had in my head until 28th December 2011. It wasn't a long time but I felt like I had him completely ripped away from me on Wednesday. 2 months the doctor now thinks (it may be just a coincidence that he has gone downhill since they decided to end the chemotherapy but I have my doubts...) My dad doesn't know because we don't want him to give up, but all he does now is sleep. I've spent all the time possible with him since February, I've been the doting daughter by his bedside since the start, so I don't have my regrets, but I do feel that now when I know my time with him is limited, because he is always so tired, I can't spend those precious moments with him as much as I would like anymore.
I'm so lost. And confused. And angry. And upset. And feel utterly hopeless. I know it's tragic at any age, but he is just so young. I need him. I don't know how I will go on, or deal with things in life without him. It's just so unfair!
