Social media gets a slating for a wide range of reasons, many of them justified (and the irony of me typing this on a social media blogging platform is not lost on me), but now and then it is a tool for good. Last weekend, whilst stood waiting for the Happy Mondays to take to the stage, a friend of mine mentioned someone who had, out of the blue, followed him on twitter. The username, and the pics, suggested it was a mutual school friend I had, unfortunately, lost touch with some 16 or so years ago.
I searched the account, sent off a message, and was pleased to discover it was who we thought it was. I exchanged some texts, updated him on the 800lb gorilla in the room, and arranged to meet him next weekend, before City's home game v Huddersfield. Fast forward to yesterday and we got to meet up, and catch up. In addition, an old work colleague (from the same school) came to the match and we had a decent reunion, some 33 years in the making.
After an incompetent capitulation away at West Brom on Wednesday night, that had me sat seething and swearing on the sofa, much to the amusement of my mother-in-law, I was not so hopeful for the game. Thankfully they failed to live up to my pessimistic expectations and we battered them 5-2. No doubt normal service will be resumed next weekend away at Fulham.
The previous day I had gone up to Bath to attend my support group for the first time in a few weeks. There were a number of new faces, and I was in the odd position of giving advice to these people, sounding like the experienced veteran in all of this. Odd how things change in such a short period of time. One of the new people was a chap who was also diagnosed with colon cancer. He told me his story, including a heartbreaking account of how other issues had compounded the 40-tonne-truck-hitting-you news of "you have cancer." He was clearly in the same mental state I had been in for some weeks after my own diagnosis. I felt devastated for him.
Also in attendance was the husband of a fellow cancer sufferer. I had not seen either of them for some time and asked how his wife was doing. The reply of "she died 4 weeks ago" made me feel 1) bad for asking the question but more so 2) incredibly sad that she had died. I had only met her a handful of times, but had enjoyed her company, and marvelled at her positive attitude in the face of her horrific condition.
This is the first time that someone I know from the group has died, and I guess it will not be the last time. It is the occupational hazard of joining a club with such a brutal manner of ejection. I left to drive home, and gave my wife a call. I still felt sad and needed to speak to her.
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