2007 — 12 July: it's a brand new day (they tell me)

Dozing when called by the consultant's secretary to check our GP's details. "He's writing a letter to her." I must make an appointment to see her, too, but will watch this DVD about the treatment first. (Couldn't face watching it last night, believe me.)

I gave in and popped my first-ever sleeping pill last night. Woke at 4.35 but drifted almost straight back and am now re-surfacing at about 8.45. I admit I feel rested, though the background anxiety is, of course, still yammering away. Time for some food and a cuppa. That will help.

I can also tell, from the number of typos I've been cleaning up today, that acuity1 is not quite 100%. Again, that tea may help... Spose I could get dressed, too!

Morticia? Smells delicious!

Possessing, as I do, the secret direct-dial code of her room, I just spoke to her (09:20) and got a couple of minutes before they wheeled in what I picture as (quite wrongly, but it helps) an Addam's family cauldron of bubbling, steaming evil gorp from which they'll ladle a dose lethal to cancer into her. Hope they didn't leave out the eye of newt!

And, thinking of gorp reminds me to make some brekkie, too. Now, where did I put that appetite? There's not even been a Guardian delivered, though I can always crack open the last two unopened copies. I don't expect the news will have changed much.

What's next, Mrs Landingham?

In a sneaky bit of textual re-use, let me add here a chunk from a note I sent earlier today:

She did beautifully on her first day, and the fight continues (in hospital) for a week, I may
then get her home in weeks 2 and 3 before it's back for another drip-fed blast. Each "course"
is 3x three-week cycles of this, and then they rescan the tumours and adjust attack plans as
need be.

I've got some very specific symptoms of side-effects to watch carefully for, along with treatments.
And if there's ever a temperature above 38C it's an emergency admission to the General. Her immune
system will sink pretty low during the last part of each three week cycle, which means no visitors
with runny noses, etc. Luckily most of her chums are beyond that stage.

Unfunnily enough, She's not the only one to be on the lookout for side-effects. I'm quite surprised just how dopey one little sleeping pill can make me — though I suppose it's possible nobody else will notice any difference in me! And my surplus avoirdupois is melting away, I can tell you... Now it's time to pop in and say "Hello, love!"
Recent update: My, She looks grand. And cheerful. I stayed for nearly two hours and sank a tea or two, leaving the cookie to her. Then the taxi ride home, and TLC plus supper from the bungalow neighbours. They are more than incredibly kind and patient with me, I have to say. A lovely note from another set of neighbours, too, and a hand (well, computer) made card for Her from Mike P that will have enough curative power that (to borrow a lovely line from a recent ex-neighbour):

If our thoughts and best wishes could have a bearing on the situation, there would be more than
enough to have Christa back home, without delay, and sorting out that pond!

Drooping very fast tonight

I've just had a brief chat with Her at about 21:30 or so. Today was a Good Day.2 These are now the only sort of days we want!



1  It's taken me over 10 minutes to prepare and publish these first three paragraphs. Now there's a clue.
2  Any tears were induced purely by the kindness and sympathy of others.