Apologies for the words about serious sh!t, again, but I kind of like venting things out like a stream of hot vomit and I’ll probably delete it later, anyway, then try to get back to the serious business of making other people laugh.
So, what’s my problem?
I spent most of today hugging a weeping man. I know what you are thinking, I see your concern, but I can assure you there was no bumming involved. No, these were a different type of tears and a different kind of hugs.
And not a good kind.
Let’s call the weeping man ‘B’ – because his name begins with the letter B, not because he f*cks flowers and sh!ts honey, obviously. And let’s call his lovely wife ‘Z’ because that’s the first letter of her name too. Genius.
It seems like only moments that I was at their wedding, at a beautiful venue, drinking like a fish and watching my mate walk down the aisle dressed like a f*cking comedy groom, just brilliant. A weekend of memories and utter debauchery, much of which can never be retold.
And it seems even less time since we were at school together, over twenty years ago, creating havoc and being stupid f*cking idiots, setting fire to sh!t and generally being immortal, like all young boys are.
Except, it turns out we’re not.
‘B’ is dying and there is almost nothing that can be done about it.
He’s been fighting cancer with everything he has for over a year now, with the top prize being a potentially life-extending bone marrow transplant being offered whilst the cancer is attacked with heavy duty chemotherapy.
We thought it was in remission.
It’s back with vengeance and it’s worse than ever, without a remission there is no way forward and unless the impossibly nasty week long sessions of chemotherapy he is having right now do something, time is short.
And what’s worse, there is a drug available in America, called SGN-35, that could save him. If he could have it that is… because the clinical trials in the UK ended the day after he was told he could have it, so now he can’t, there isn’t any, it’s not licensed or something.
Unless he buys his own from America for $200,000 of course.
And I spent the day trying to keep positive whilst knowing what he really needed (and got) was reassurances that we would still be there for ‘Z’ and help her with things when he has gone…
He’s thirty five years old and he is having to work out what he can do to make sure his wife is ‘OK’ when he dies. Whilst simultaneously trying to find a way to keep fighting through pain, misery and hopeless waves of utter hell.
He’s thirty five.
And then there are his children – two little boys aged two and four.
His absolute world and the core of the strength he has to keep fighting. And he is fighting, fighting for his children and his family because they are everything, even though he is close to falling apart…
What I would do for $200,000 right now, or the ability to take this pain away from him. I know what comes next, I’ve lived through it twice already and I’m not looking forward to it. Life hurts you then it hurts you some more.
A tip: If you ever end up with one of your oldest and dearest friends crying helplessly in your arms because he knows his children will not remember him. Don’t try and say anything – because believe me, there is NOTHING to say.