The origins of this blog were forged over a decade ago. I was a 20 year old boy who had never been laid and was still coming to terms with the death of my sister. I weighed 22 stone, spent my nights drinking in the pub and hid everything under a mask of laughter. I loathed myself and things were about to get worse. One day whilst on my lunch break at work – at the time I was working a dead-end job as a purchase ledger clerk – I received a call.
“Mister Lawson?” asked a calm voice.
“Mister Lawson?” asked a calm voice.
“Speaking,” I replied.
“This is Doctor Brookes; I’m in charge of your fathers care. Were you aware that he was admitted to hospital?”
“No, the last update I had was a month ago to tell me that he had gone back into full-time care.”
“No, the last update I had was a month ago to tell me that he had gone back into full-time care.”
“I’m afraid to tell you that his condition has been deteriorating for some time and that this morning he collapsed on the ward. He’s stable… for now but it would be best if you could come into the hospital.”
It was a call I had been dreading but not prepared for.
