He's still feeling wonderful. This scares both me and Sensible Brother, who see this as an upset of the statistics. He, quite rightly, points out that, every time my father has seen a doctor, it has been bad news: "Oh, it can't be a tumour... it's a tumour", "There is a 70% chance it's not cancerous... it's cancerous", etc.
He had all the tests yesterday, and I was waiting for a text message to tell me what was going on, which they clearly failed to send. Bollocks. So I have to wait another 6 hours until they wake up, and then I will be told that they still don't know anything, so don't ask. What I do know is that they have a huge conference with the doctors today, so we had better bloody know something at that point.
I do quite fancy Paris at Christmas, though.