A depression drifts across the Midlands

Wednesday was really tough. Victoria spent some time staring into space. I seemed to be unable to motivate her to do anything. She wouldn't read, play games, talk, or even eat.

I sat on the bed to talk to her. She'd been mulling over the events of the last week and had all this heavy stuff going on in her head. Then she told me something that chilled me to the core. She couldn't see herself getting better. I couldn't hold it together, I hugged her as close as I could, and cried. Through the stream of liquid running down my face I told her she couldn't think like this, that she needed to stay positive, and believe in a cure, and never give up the fight. Easy though that sentence was to type, it was the hardest pep talk I've ever had to deliver. I realised that I was wasted in the world of IT, and perhaps I should become a management consultant... or a preacher... or a politician...

Usually Tracey and I spend 24 hours stints at the hospital swapping with Tracey, but because I had to take my mum to the airport Thursday morning, I'd agreed to do a double shift. To to this double shift through this particular 48 hours was the hardest 2 days of my life. When Debbie and Tracey arrived, I broke down, and Tracey and I agreed never to do 48 hours again. Just as she starts a 48 hour stint.

However, it wasn't all negative. Victoria picked herself up, eat her Aberdeen Angus (whilst declaring her new found hatred of cheese) and we played Sing Star, and giggled a lot. I was Jarvis Cocker, and she was Eminem, and we were the Proclaimers.

"and I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more, just to be that man who walked 1,000 miles to find a cancer cure"