Everyone thinks he looks daft

It's a bizarre life where illness is the preferable outcome.

Although the boy is quite unwell, we are pleased that he has a line infection. If the antibiotics don't deal with the infection, it might mean that he will need an operation to remove the line. But the alternative was that the tumour growth was meaning he couldn't contol his temperature. Another Hobson's choice.

Felt very tired, despite a lie in. And in low spirits. At how tired I am and so, so fearful about the boy. I look at his half-paralysed face, wondering if it's got worse over recent weeks - people staring on the train yesterday bother me. Flicking through old photos to try to work out if it is real or unwarranted. Just not sure.

One of those rare occasions when I wanted to talk to the wife about the sadness and fear of the future. But I can't. Thoughts too black for her to bear. Even recording them isn't enough tonight.