2007 — 21 September: a better night behind us...

..and, we hope, a good morning ahead.

One never quite knows what each new day is going to bring along, but a day that starts with little or no signs of pain is definitely one that's getting off to a good (if yawny, 07:43) start. Must remember to take one of my "cool" bags along to this morning's radiotherapy to carry the EPO syringes in. Must also remember to call in at the hospital pharmacy for them in the first place, of course. Still, now that a chap's retired...

Welcome aboard, Leo pioneer John Smythson who (I trust) has bookmarked these diary entries in whatever browser his AOL system makes available to him. We got the card from Judy's Pembrokeshire coastal path walk, thanks! How's the water lily?

Back home already!

And it wasn't even 09:50 when we were dropped1 off — very smooth operation. All meds now safely onboard for the morning, New Statesman magazine delivered, and the EPO syringes will be taxied over some time after 11 a.m. it seems. Time to assess the growing set of tasks ahead of me this weekend and set about prioritising some of them. Next week the radiation sessions are Monday through Thursday — not leaving too much respite for the wicked.

Retail misadventures

Before lunch I was whizzed adroitly into Eastleigh where I snaffled the desired "well-fired" loaf. The baker tried to conceal the second one from me as it was obviously ear-marked for a member of staff. I don't blame him — it's delicious. But I also got the requisite cream sweetmeats for a luxurious afternoon scoff/snack in a little while. Then, shortly after lunch, my intrepid chum and I hit Matalan though it turns out the Egyptian cotton bedding I bought has 132 threads per inch when I should have been shooting for 200 or so. I tell you, I still have an awful lot to learn in way of domestic duties before I reach a passing grade. But I have a remarkably forgiving instructor. She still made me a cup of tea.

Creationism, huh?

I was led from a piece on HL Mencken's birthday celebrations to an interview here with the tag line "Science exists whether humans exist or not". It has far too much good stuff in it to nick quotes from. I simply commend it to my reader! Though who could resist:

If you understand that the universe is approximately 13 billion years old and the Earth is 4.6 billion years old, and if you understand what the tree of life looks like on our planet and that Homo sapiens occupy the tiniest little twig you can imagine out on an insignificant little branch, then our little twig has only existed for 150,000 years out of 4.6 billion years. It's pretty hard then to think of yourself as really what it's all about. Humans, our species, have been here for a very short amount of time and are not particularly special biologically. That can be tough on the ego for some.

Kenneth Lacovara, Ph.D.

Shades of the magnificent opening lines from "The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy" (1979) by the late, wonderful, Douglas Adams:

Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun.
Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.

Staying with a galactic2 theme... department

Thank you, Len, for your patience and kindness in raiding the Asda shelves for a copy of Season #3 of Battlestar Galactica for my delectation. Gawd knows when I'll get an uninterrupted span of Time long enough to watch this, but I live in hope.

Hopeful sign... department

If you've noticed a somewhat lighter feel to today's diary entry — pain has not so far been an issue today (apart from the inevitable "topup" before getting on to the radiation couch) and it's well past mid-afternoon. This is good. So now it's time for tea, a cream bun, and some downtime...



1  Not literally (for my more credulous reader) I hasten to clarify.
2  My 1964 Panther paperback edition of the equally late (and equally wonderful) Isaac Asimov's Foundation trilogy (back in the days, that is, when it was just a trilogy!) bore the misprint "Julactic" through numerous reprints on the back cover when describing Hari Seldon's psychohistoric analysis.