There is a Vibe in the Soup: II
There have been so many good vibes dropping into the soup that I have had to get the blender out again.
I send potent vibes back to you all.
Refill your glasses, or bump up the ‘meds: here is ‘Part Two’ of our homely entertainment.
Our hero is recharged with energy and Meddlesome Wife has whisked him to the local airport. It is a dark, damp night in the North of Scotland. Have swirls of mist, if you must.
What was that?
Bagpipes?
No, that is a cliché too far.
Our hero is going to fly to the expert in the South of the land (not very exotic South –we are only talking England here) who offers a treatment which will make it possible for our brave, very thin, hero to eat again.
Picture a rather ill looking man, still very handsome, with an overnight bag which clearly announces to more ‘sophisticated’ travelers that owner is somehow - shall we say – not quite up to the minute with his gear.
Yes, he is our hero. No designer baggage for him. He has rather more important things to spend his money on.
Now picture the scene at security as they look at the glugging, fizzing quantity of medicines our hero has in that very unfashionable bag.
You are allowed to weep as you imagine him delving into that bag to find the only piece of paper that he has which indicates he has a terminal illness. He pulls out the crumpled ‘report’ from the gastroenterologist that he is taking to the ‘expert’ in the south, just in case they have not got their act together in the North to forward it down in time.
What is pulled out of the bag is like a child’s drawing, but just happens to have ‘oesophageal cancer’ written in large letters. Apparently, this is enough to allow the glugging and fizzing medicines through. You can imagine the looks of horror and sympathy on the faces of the people who work on security as comprehension dawns.
( Meddlesome Wife’s Aside: What is this country coming to? Can you imagine our hero’s embarrassment? What sort of nonsense is this? He is only flying from Inverness to Manchester! )
Cut to somewhere in the wilds of England where expert in state-of-the art clinic dwells.
Our hero meets the wonderful ‘expert’ and they like each other and don’t talk of ‘time-scales’ and ‘expert’ doesn’t approve of negative oncologists and he will treat our hero. And there is such happiness.
And hero and Meddlesome Wife hug and cry as they reunite in the swirling mists. (Actually, it is a very clear night …and there is no crying …and it is just a question of who will drive home …not the Meddlesome Wife, as it happens.)
Off with the slippers and back to real life …
We have been given a little hope and now it is a case of keeping our hero fed until treatment starts in the New Year. And praying that the other little guests in the liver don’t make their presence felt. Perhaps the good vibes in the soup will keep them outside that door …
