Today has been the saddest day of my life. Not for the reason of waiting for it to be confirmed that I have Prostrate Cancer, but due to the fact that our route to becoming our grandson’s Special Guardian may well blocked due to the condition I am nearly in.
My partner and I have attended a good number of meetings with the social services, completed forms, organised people to provide references, had informal chats and official interviews that have spanned several months. These are ongoing and we both have more formal interviews.
We fully accept the process and have fitted in everything around looking after our grandson, being with his parents on a daily basis and working.
Today it was confirmed that the social worker had recommended that a court case was the solution to deciding whether they could have their son back and what next must be done.
I put it that way as the ‘next’ was to be us becoming special guardians but since starting the process I have blood tests that showed the possibility of having Prostrate Cancer. I have had internal inspections, MRI scan revealing three shadows on the gland and yesterday at a pre-operation assessment given next Monday (three days time) as the date for the biopsy.
Yes, it could be fine if cancer is not present, but the fear of loosing our grandson looms heavily as it is a very heavy a price to pay for something we are not responsible for.
In bed at past midnight and crying aloud brought me to think, write it down. Set the perspective.
I cannot see an enjoyable life without our grandson in it. If he leaves this family we have lost him until he is 18 years old. 15 Birthdays, 15 Christmases, first day at school, first crush, the list goes on.
That is not considering his attitude to his parents or us for not being with him during those precious growing years. He may not want to make contact.
His parents are remorseful about the situation and have done great things to redress the situation and at present are both in shock, both tearful and both cannot comprehend life with no child.
I cannot see the logic of separating him from his family, where he is truly loved, where the situation can be repaired with effort and time. We are his second line of defence and having Cancer is not a threat to him or any relationship he has with us. Being blunt, I think having someone (me) in his life for say two years is better than living with foster parents or new parents.
The only time I am really happy is when I am with him playing. Other than that I want to withdraw from life.
I have a lot on my mind at the moment is an understatement. Slowly I am having to open up to a wide audience and explain the situation I am in and I am getting more supportive feelings from friends than I thought.
It is not necessarily from the words but from their hidden understanding they seem to exude: their eyes, their body posture, the fact they don’t know what to say and therefore don’t blurt things out just for the sake of it. Family feel obliged to say things.
I don’t want to be told it’s alright, it will not turnout that bad, or Mr Smith had that and he is ok. I don’t care; what is common between us I have no idea.
I am borrowed time!
My Cancer may or may not be a major problem. Loosing my grandson is more life changing to me, from which there is no recovery.
I want to go back to February 2019 and put things right. Even that is not really early enough, but … I now want to be alone in a crowd and not bothered by anyone.
He is so special that it hurts me to think I can do nothing more than I am …. the system is taking over. I should not have to protect him that’s what parents do, obviously I have screwed up as a father, and my son has failed, albeit in adulthood.
I am sitting in Costas in Portsmouth crying and crying I see no solution to our grandson being fostered or adopted. He will be gone from our life forever.
My son and his partner have apparently been unable to care for him and someone has contacted social services. It’s right and proper to protect him but it hurts and hurts – every time I stop thinking the pain returns and twists me over.
Last Friday my partner was collecting him for a stay over, very normal, could be one night, could be two nights, it matters not. The police either arrived or where there questioning his mum and dad. Social services had been informed by someone that they were not good parents. There may have been cause for concern that our son had fallen backwards down the stairs after our grandson was being cross with being taken out of the bath.
He is bright and very active and he keeps us busy. He is inquisitive, he is able to draw pieces of information together to check things with question, in much the same way he builds towers with tubes. He is able to reuse things he has been told. He understands and recognises sadness and knows he can help to make people feel better. What else is there for a boy of a month away from three years of age?
Drugs were searched for and found. Our sons partner kicked off big time and had to be restrained.
One of the policemen recognised my partner as being one of two (me the other) that collected our grandson when a similar event occurred. I imagined he checked and she and our grandson were allowed to leave.