Love is A Six Letter Word

1. Finding Out.

A routine blood test is what discovered my cancer.

My GP called my dad at about nine in the morning, asking my dad and myself to go in and have an urgent meeting with him, and so we did.

At around ten thirty in the morning, I was diagnosed with moderately aggressive, acute lymphocytic leukemia. Moderately aggressive? Like a bear who kind of likes cuddles?

At around ten thirty five in the morning, I asked for a 'Get out of Cancer free' card, or a cancer cheat sheet - but I was told to stop being so passive about such a serious matter, so I stopped talking.

At around ten to eleven in the morning, I was changed into a hospital gown, and then three men took bone marrow samples from my spine, while I stared at the zoo themed mural on the wall in the children ward.

At around ten past eleven in the morning, my father was collapsed, sobbing in a hospital corridor. ''Not again, not again.''

At around quarter past eleven in the morning, my father was given medication to calm him down.

At around half past eleven in the morning, my oldest brother, Leonardo Junior arrived to pick myself and my father up from the hospital as my father was deemed unfit to drive.

All before midday. My life changed in less than three hours.

Three petty hours - it takes longer than that to make a full course meal.

Three episodes of America's Next Top Model.

It takes three hours to get from Dudley to London, depending on the traffic.

It takes three hours to download all of The Sims 3 expansion packs.

It took three hours for iOS 7 to download onto my iPhone.

It takes three hours to wash, dry, curl and style my hair.

It takes more than three hours for Rocco to get ready for a hot date.

It took three and a half hours between the births of my identical twin brothers.

Three hours is not enough time for my entire life to be turned upside down, I'm not accepting three fucking hours.