That Dad

That Dad had a second round of neurosurgery today, since he'd bounced back so resiliently from the first excavation last Thursday. I reckon he had so many operative braincells beforehand that he can afford to lose a few, and all signs have backed me up so far. I'm resisting googling, but understand that the cancer cell-type is relatively responsive.

Anyway, he's eating fruit this afternoon and asking for mum, which has to be a good sign; eating, talking and mentating. Now he'll have a matching shaved area on the right side of his pre-frontal cranium, to re-symmetrise the other side.

I clocked 56 hrs at work last week, and am working up to the same this week, so have been thankfully distracted. Yesterday was 8am to 4.30 pm, 8 pm to 10 pm and today 7.30 am to 1 pm. Tell me this will stop soon, please... All I do is work, visit hospital and sleep, and order takeaways if I have kiddos to feed. Today I have the luxury of 32 hrs off at a stretch, which will be savoured.

When I clocked off at 1 pm, I took the bad dog Jake for a long walk down the Braidburn. I could've posted pics but my new phone's full and yet to be downloaded. The sky was clear with slanting autumn sunlight and extreme cold. What could be better?