He had surgery to his frontal lobe yesterday morning, roughly the time i was out at Humevale Rd, with Dave, doing strength endurance efforts.
The morning was clear, crisp, and surprisingly cold. The sky was blue, with a few touches of cloud here and there. I struggled, I'm afraid to say, with the fact that i could be having such a good time, while someone fairly close to me was having such a shit time.
It's a simplistic sensation but one that we have all felt: thank christ it isn't me, or mum, or my sister. Which in turn makes you feel horrible.
But right then, as Dave and I made our way up the climb twice, I felt pretty damn good, despite the shit storm that is going to be my sister's life for the next while.
I can't work out whether my failure to be more upset is a result of having already experienced the death of a family member through something as dumb as cancer, or the fact that riding my bike provides me with what most people might call 'perspective'.
At any rate, i should have felt awful yesterday, but instead i felt great.
I'm not sure what to take from that, if anything.
Oh, and as an aside, looking at my stats, and the search words that brought people here was not funny for the first time. In fact, it freaked me out. I want nothing to do with some of those key search words.
So i'm going to stop swearing.