My father has cancer

I don’t quite believe the news. It’s completely unexpected. I don’t have a script, and don’t have the words.

I managed to hold it together on the phone when I was told. I said I didn’t know what to say. That seemed to be acceptable. There is nothing practical I can do to help at the moment. I wish there was. Practical I can do. The emotional side is much harder.

I am scared. I’m not telling my parents that.

I don’t have many other people to tell. I managed to call a friend tonight. She is great, but she doesn’t live anywhere near me.

I don’t think there’s anyone locally I can call on. That’s the problem I’ve found with autism: you don’t make friends easily and you don’t know when – or who – you can ask for help and support.

I don’t want to be alone tonight. I need someone to give me a hug; to tell me it’s going to be OK, even though I know there is a real possibility that it’s not.

I don’t have that. And those four words keep going around in my head: “my father has cancer”.


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