The One Thing Nobody Tells You...

when you lose your second parent is just how incredibly alone you feel.

We're only halfway through 2010 and the amount of life changing events that have happened for me is astonishing. This six months has had more loss in it than the previous six years!

When I was reading my yearly horoscopes at the end of 2009 it was all about the massive changes coming my way in the new year. Now like most people I only believe Mystic Meg et al if they're telling me what I want to hear, and bizarrely change is something that doesn't scare me at all these days.

It used to, I used to want to keep everything exactly the same and perfect and nobody leaves and nobody does anything unexpected, then I became aware of Buddhism and the teachings simply pointed out that that is not possible, that everything changes (just like Take That told us all those years ago), and that is just how it is. Once I came to believe that in my heart as well as my head, life got a lot easier.

So I was kinda buzzing about this year, not knowing that some of those changes were pretty momentous. I guess it started at the tail end of 2009 when Regent Inns went bust and I lost a load of work with Jongleurs. It took me a while to get into their roster of acts and once I did, I quickly got used to the great organisation, good money, decent accommodation, and comforting regularity of the whole thing. It didn't make me stagnate, as some acts claimed, cos I've never looked down on groups of stags or hens as something to be despised. They might be a bit drunker and rowdier than your average crowd, but for most clubs and not just Jongleurs, they are what makes a crowd! Without them, you'd be playing to half empty rooms!

The massive drop in earnings did scare me, not to mention the gaps that opened up in my diary as I lost shows at all the clubs that shut! Luckily that fear was soon turned around as I was able to fill every single gap with gigs at other clubs. The money wasn't as good, but I was working and seeing lots of new comics and keeping out of mischief. It has made me question my comedy "career" tho.

I think I'm doing some of my best work, but aside from the time onstage which I love more than anything, the rest of it, the politics, the industry, the petty squabbles and rivalry, the bullshit, are really getting to me.

These thoughts have only come to a head as 2010 and it's "changes" began to kick in. It started positively, I booked a little birthday trip to Thailand just before new year, which I was sooooooo looking forward to.

As February kicked in so did the rubbish stuff.

My Dad finally got a date for his heart valve operation, 8th February. I wasn't that keen for him to have the operation, but he was getting breathless performing the simplest of tasks, and when the surgeon mentioned this valve could give him another 5 years or so, he jumped at the chance. He wanted to be able to carry on living independently, to be able to go to the pub, do his shopping, nothing excessive, just not end up in a home or god forbid, with me taking care of him!

We used to joke about what it would be like if that happened. I likened myself to Nurse Ratchett from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, and promised him he wouldn't linger with me in charge! I was joking of course, but the grim reality of having to move back to Preston did terrify me. At the same time I knew I couldn't leave him in an old folks' home either.

Anyway he'd been fretting about getting his stuff together for the hospital stay and I promised I'd be up to sort everything out. I am so glad that I didn't break that promise. His admission date was 8/2/10 and I went up the weekend before and shopped and packed and kept his spirits up as by now the reality that he was about to have major heart surgery at the age of 83 was kicking in.

I told him he didn't have to have the op if he was that worried, but he wanted it. I told him to focus on how great he'd be feeling afterwards when he was all healed and able to spend the summer afternoons sitting at the bowling club with a beer in his hand. He kept talking about how he could 'die on the table' and I said that of course that could happen, but it could happen if you were having an ingrowing toenail removed!

To me, the idea of "dying on the table" didn't seem such a bad one really. You'd be unconscious, your last thoughts would be positive ones, it'd be pain free, and hey you'd never bloody know would you!

Things pretty quickly went wrong. The day after the op he was told the valve had slipped and as I've written before it was a pretty steep slope leading to his death 20 days after the operation.

My relationship with my parents was rocky to say the least, but I found my friendship and love for my Dad increased a million-fold as I was able to be with him for the last month of his life. I will never stop being grateful that I put aside history, and gave my attention to his well-being for that all too brief period.

In the midst of all those dramas of course, there was the sudden, senseless, death of my friend Jason Wood. He died eight days before my Dad, and his death is something I don't think I'll ever comprehend. I still walk into clubs expecting to see him in the dressing room.

In one month I lost two men from my life who were a pretty big part of my support system. Jason was so wise and such an excellent listener. My Dad, well he was my safety net. He may not have been the best Dad in the world, but he was my Dad, and now he was gone.

The other big change I guess, was the diagnosis late last year, of lupus. At the time it was simply a case of swollen fingers and achy knees, but the stress of these events has led to the symptoms increasing pretty rapidly.

What a selection of symptoms I have too! My hair is falling out in clumps, I collapse/faint on a fairly regular basis, there are days I can barely walk cos of the pain in my joints. I'm having trouble remembering that a year ago I was doing head and handstands in yoga. These days a downward dog damn near kills me!

The worst thing tho is the lack of healing. I've had two minor operations and both have ended with repeated hospital visits and infections and just hassles nobody wants or needs.

I'm writing this in my room on the 10th floor of a rather swish hotel in Barcelona, and while all the stuff above seems like I am feeling maudlin or sorry for myself, I'm not. The changes sure are coming, and they're coming thick and fast. Yesterday was my 17th anniversary of being a comedian. Will I have another 17 years on the circuit, I doubt it. What Jason's and my Dad's deaths have taught me is that life is too short to not make the most of every moment we're here.

The lupus has made me realise that my dream of travelling when I'm older might be a waste of time. If I don't improve, a trip to Sainsbury's might be a huge deal in 10 years' time! So here I am, making the most of the moments, taking trips, making plans while at the same time being in the now, and while I am completely "alone" I'm not lonely. I feel a connection to this world I've not felt ever before.

I'm not sure what the next phase of my life will bring, but I'm open to all offers and embracing whatever this life has in store. I owe it to those I love, their lives are a huge inspiration.