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Downfall on the good stuff
Pop's sick. He needs a blood transfusion. I'm thinking of going up there for a visit. This week would be ideal since I haven't been roastered on work and won't need swap any shifts - unfortunetly Mum has to be at work, so I'd be going up by myself somehow (bus or train) and I'll have to be back before Saturday. Before Friday night even.
I've never thought about losing any of my family. It's always been a worry in the back of my mind. Especially with Dad. Doing peacekeeping and stuff, army, and now UN. I've always felt for Mumsy. Though now -- things are happening, and I don't want them to. Oh... I could be childish and cry and stamp my feet and lament over how I don't want any of this to happen, but I'm not going to.
They're not to sure what's wrong with Pop. All that we know so far, is that his red blood cells are decreasing while his white (I presume) are staying the same. Mum used the termonology "the red blood cells are eating eachother" when telling me. She says that it could be lukemia (sp?).
Then, everybody is worried about Nan because of her memory. And it is getting worse. Like I could have a conversation with her and we talk about Nick at the beginning of the conversation, then only about fifteen, twenty minutes later, she asking me again. Even Adam picked up on it all when he rang last week.
I want to go up and visit -- but I don't know if I'll be strong enough to do it. I want to help. Somehow. I've always wanted to write a family history of sorts. Like I started researching my family history ages ago, but then school (even though it was only highschool) at the time became to busy, and I kept on putting it off. I want to record everything. They're lives. Memories. Family history.
I don't want to lose them. I really don't.
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