SMIH again!

[Flu still has not redeemed itself......Feel better soon, Elaine!]

Argh! Don't do this to me! Don't leave it up to me! I can't take responsibility.
Do I feel bad enough now? What if I feel worse later in the week? I won't dare call twice - I'd feel too guilty...
You don't sound like you're capable of pronouncing 'coherent conversation', never mind holding one with me....

I survived last week but Thursday is *IT*. The day, one year ago, I sat in a little hospital office and heard the words: 'I'm afraid it isn't good news: it is cancer'. Thank you Nicola Roche for your straightforward honesty; for looking me in the face and telling it like it was. For not um-ing or ah-ing or being uncomfortable or staring at your toes.

I didn't cry. Then.

I think I said: 'That's a bit of bugger.' Yorkshire understatement at it's best. I sat there staring at a metal [I wrote 'mental' the first time - WTF?], lockable closet in the corner that had stuff piled up on top of it. And I thought 'This cannot be true, because if it were true I could not cope. It must be the most awful nightmare I've ever had.'

It was no dream.
But it was the start of the nightmare.