So... I got the call.  The call that I reckon I've been waiting for ever since I moved down here.  My sister called to say that my old man was in hospital.  Turns out they reckon he's got lung cancer.  I knew it would come.  That call.  But I had hoped it would be in a long fuckin time.

So, I packed up my shit, and boarded a train and found myself back in Glasgow again.  It was tough seeing the old boy, he looks fine, apart from his sore shoulder (he's had the sore shoulder for a while, they thought it was "frozen"... turns out it was a tumour, which has eroded the bone and he's somehow broken it.  The least wee touch could have done it they say.  But I could see that he's scared, and that was fuckin hard.  It's a bad enough day when you're growing up and you realise that your dad isn't superman, but to see fear in him was horrible.

I think he's more worried about my mama, there's no way she can live on her own.  She doesn't know whether she's coming or going.  I'm not convinced that she's even taken in what's wrong with my dad.  Fuckit... what ye gonna do.

I came back down to Engerlundshire for a few days on Friday, I wanted to sort some stuff out here.  Go into the office and speak to people there about what to do.  They've been great, told me to take as much time as I needed and offered to get me a flight home the day I found out.  But I still figure that I should give them their place and go and see them.  I think part of me just wanted to get away from Glasgow again and just forget for a wee while.  I don't think that worked out too well.

It's interesting.  I've fuckin complained so much about living here, how much I hate it.  But I've got a life here.  My life now is here, I missed my mates from down here, I missed work, I missed playing guitar and the whole musical social circle that I've formed here.  And now the thought of having to move home is fuckin scary, but I have to do it, right?  I can't leave everything on my sister and family up there to deal with it.  But, would my parents want me to give up my job, my career, my life down here to go back to a place that I really don't want to be?  I don't think they would, but then, could I live with myself down here.  Just waiting again for that inevitable call that my old man has been taken to hospital for the last time, or that my mama has got worse and really can't remember anything. 

Fuck knows... I guess there'll be lots of "wait and see" type conversations in my head for a wee while.  But there's gonna come a time when I need to do what I need to do.

Am I cunt for it even being a tough decision?  This is my family, my fuckin auld man and mama.  Two people in the world that I'd do anything to make sure they were ok.  They know everything about me and the fucked up way I've been for the last wee while, I brought that to them, that stress, worry all because I thought I had problems.

The one thing that has been a complete result is I've been off the booze for 32 days now.  (well, there have been 2 days I've had a drink once was 5 pints and the other 4 pints.  But they don't count really do they?  I mean, I'd usually have that before I even left the house on a night out before.)  But I reckon had I been drinking how I usually do when I found out about this then I'd just be a complete fuckin wreck.  But I haven't, I've been as solid as I could have expected to be, and I don't mind saying I'm quite proud of myself.  The desire to have a beer last Friday (when I found out) was the most fuckin unbelievable thing I've ever experienced.  That's what I do, bad news - go and get blitzed and forget about it for 2 or 3 hours and then deal with the fallout the next day.  Until I have another drink, and so on and so forth.  But I didn't do it, I even went to the pub, I went to see the band of the woman who gives me singing lessons.  She got me up to sing with her(after much persuading).  It's a 9 piece soul/funk band.  4 piece horn section etc... And it was fuckin amazing.  I remember just standing there and singing, thinking "I really don't want this night to end, because tomorrow my life is never gonna be the same.  Tomorrow I need to meet people and say 'my dad has cancer'.  Tomorrow I'll need to meet people who'll constantly be asking me how he his.  Tomorrow I'll need to reply to text messages from everyone, who of course mean well and are just concerned, and give them an update on anything that's happened."

But for that time, I could forget about it all.  I could stand and sing and know that my old man and my mama would be fuckin proud as fuck to see me there, singing in front of all these people.

Anyway... I should go to my bed.  Although sleep is a bit of an enemy right now.  I've still got my own bollocks "problems" running around my head at the speed of light with a big banging drum booming out that my old man has cancer.

Fuckit...