My Hero

I learnt today where I get my strength from. His name is Leslie Miller and he is my grandfather.

He’s currently in hospital with a big old chest drain in and has been for almost a week now. Didn’t want to bother us with his sickness though so we only found out last night.

Considering how sick he is, with everything else that’s going on, he’s doing incredibly well.

Even with a litre of fluid in his bucket (as we fondly referred the container the drain was dripping in to) and a walking stick, he still moved quicker than me!

He’s also on a hell of lot less pain killers than I.

How is someone with spreading cancer and a big old tube sticking out of their chest, taking less pain killers than me?!

That man is a trooper and I am lucky and proud to call him my grandad.

I’m grateful he’s relatively comfortable and being well looked after. It’s just such a shame we’re so far away from him. A 3hr drive to London (through central london) is not a journey I am well enough to be doing. I’m suffering now but I don’t regret it. His face lit up when he saw mum and I.

Totally worth the extra clicks on the TENS machine and possible slight overdose on codeine. It’s ok because I’m not driving back šŸ˜…

Here’s an old pic of the great fella himself


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