They told us in the most technologically advanced way they could, via Facetime. I was actually impressed. This was the only time my Mum has managed to Facetime us herself straight off.
I wonder if anyone else has used their ipads in this way. However it was the only way they could see us, virtually better than nothing at all.
As I saw their faces nervously stare back at the screen and I knew it wasn’t good.
As a nurse, I am used to bad news. I hear it, I say it. I am hardened to the cold, grey words.
But when it is personal, when it is your family, the colour and the pain sear into your heart.
Memories and thoughts flash through my mind. Some good, some bad.
I feel a sadness descend over me.
And then I have to snap out of it, and cook fish fingers and chips for my little girl, who keeps asking me what is wrong.
I sit with her and watch YouTube videos of cartoon Monkeys falling off a bed.They fall off, they get up, and they do it all over again.
She must know something is up as she has eaten all her fish finger without prompting, and I silently make a note to use this information at a later date.
I desperately want to forget about all of this. But I can’t, and it’s real.
I feel the sadness grow and spread just like the cancer that has invaded my family.