August 16th 2007
I have never been what you would call green fingered, then again I have never been a culinary whiz either. Amazingly the two of these unlikely skills (or in my case non existent skills) have come in very handy in the great scheme of coping since I have come up north to home territory after the news of my granddad. I am getting ahead of myself and I am sure I am getting ahead of all of you.
This week has been just unbearable in London. Well I say week it was a day and a half after the news that I came up, it had felt like a year. I had a packed suitcase at the ready in work and by Wednesday things were still looking unsure, I just wanted to see him too so I came up.
As for the prognosis? There still isn’t one yet. It turns out over the last month Bong was having stomach pains finally he went to the doctors about a week ago and they told him they thought he had a tumour and made an appointment for him at the hospital. The pain then got too great and this Sunday night Caroline drove Gran and Bong to Chesterfield Hospital thinking pretty much he was going to die then and there. He didn’t, now since then they have looked at the problems with his blood and given him a CAT scan. We are still waiting for the results.
So why am I now having therapy with green beans? The reason is… that my granddad (Bong – the name is a long story I may tell at some point) in his hospital bed is seriously worried that the green beans he has been growing all year are getting too big and will be wasted. The result being me picking green beans (my 3 year old cousin Alfie helped) at stupid o’clock in the morning and then slicing them, boiling them, leaving them and freezing them. Strangely though all that angry chopping and slicing and beheading was really therapeutic, I haven’t cried yet, don’t worry I know its coming, I just don’t want to start everyone else off.