For my family

So, two days ago I got the phone call I feel I have been fearing for the last few years. My sister phoned me from Australia and left a voicemail, which I listened to on coming back from a morning run. I immediately knew, when looking at her missed call, that something bad was up. It was this weird tingling at the back of my mind. She said: 'Babe, can you call me straight back when you get this, please? Dad's really sick, he's in the hospital. Thanks, bye.'

Immediate fear, horror, and shortly thereafter, a lot of tears. All my boyfriend could do was hold onto me as I sobbed and hyperventilated.

Initially, when I calmed down enough to call my sister back, she told me not to worry, that the doctors so far thought it was just some sort of infection and that he would simply need rehydrating and rest, some antibiotics. So I relaxed just a little. John and I went out for lunch, but I held onto my mobile and kept checking it every five minutes. Just as our food arrived, the phone rang again and it was my younger sister, who said she had some bad news. I, rather irrationally, said 'I know Dad's in the hospital!' But she said, 'No babe, it's cancer.'

Cue more tears, shock, denial. She told me it was ok, that he was ok for now and I should try not to worry. But went on to say that he has cancer of the kidney and liver, in addition to a cyst in his stomach.

This was two days ago and I am still in shock over it. I simply can't believe that my Dad, my strong, wonderful Dad is now lying in a hospital bed. In Auckland, New Zealand. While I am 11,000 miles away in London.

Last December, we lost our Nana (my Dad's mother) after a long battle with cancer. Dad spent so much time looking after Nana during her illness. It has always been the way with him, to think about everyone else before himself. How long has he been sick? And it all seems too cruel to have this kind of news so soon after we said goodbye to Nana.

For the moment, I'm trying my best to keep positive. I speak to my Mum and my sisters every day. I wish I was at home. Then I think that maybe I couldn't really do much for them by being there and the best thing is for me to stay in touch and keep on with what I'm doing here. At least until we have test results that will tell us what we are really facing here.

My Dad is a strong man, he will not take this lying down. He will fight, given half a chance, and I know that he can make a go of beating this thing. Even now he is still managing to put on a brave face (or voice) for his girls, telling me not to change my flight (I am moving to Australia in 4 weeks, luckily), to just keep on doing what I have been planning to do for the last year, that we'll cross all these bridges when we come to them. I know we have a really long road ahead of us, this will be a test for our family but I am proud to say we are close, and this will only bring us closer.

We have a great network of Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Brothers, Sisters, and a myriad of friends who we count as close as relatives. I am so glad that we will have all these people to provide support and love to us all and especially to my Dad whatever the next couple of weeks, months, bring.

I love my Dad so much. I love my family so much. They are all amazing, kind, funny, strong, fantastic people, with a history to match.

In this blog I want to talk about that history, recent and not-so-recent, talk about the people, the moments, and the memories that make us who we are. I hope it will remind me of what I have, and have had, over the years and help me keep my chin up, as I know that there is a hard road ahead.

Crumbling town...

Lately my dreams have been incredibly lucid and sticking with me throughout the day. I've decided to document them on this blog, I'm not really sure why, but hopefully it will give me a bit of insight...

Night of September 30th, 2008: I dreamed I was sitting in the backseat of a car driving quickly through a small town surrounded by hills. As we moved through the town the country-style, Victorian villas became more and more run down and dilapidated. At first they looked lived-in and well looked after, but then more and more appeared abandoned. I was staring out the window completely engrossed in these houses, trying to imagine who lived or had lived in them and the lives they led. Finally the last houses I saw seemed very old. Some were coloured in faded greens and blues, but they appeared to have been on fire at some point, with broken windows and black streaks and burn marks around the frames. All I could see through the doorways and windows was blackness. Some were very large and others were small row-houses. I remember looking at the row-houses and thinking the people who lived in them long ago must have been quite poor, and that it was strange that they were so close to these huge houses. Then we passed the town and I moved on into a less memorable dreamscape.