I honestly don't know why I don't just go and live in the Churchill. Well, I do know, it's a bit bleak and my house is much nicer, plus it's a bugger to get a bed. But for all the time I spend there, I might as well move in. I'm already due for chemo on the 15th, and on the 18th I have to go and see Naj (and tell him I think the fluid's back, which I don't imagine will amuse him); then, while I was asleep this afternoon…
Every day I make my bed neatly, smooth down the duvet, tuck it down the side of the bed and the footboard. And every morning I wake up cocooned in a 30-tog pretzel with my feet sticking out.
I don't know what I dream about, but it must be very exciting. It's a pity I don't remember, I might have the next big best-selling fantasy series tucked away in my brain somewhere. Although even if I did, I am probably too lazy…
Today is a very important day in the annals of the B- family (I feel like a Victorian novelist, putting it like that. My mother would have said, "And a right B family it is, too. But I digress). Today, as I was saying, is the birthday of my sister-in-law, Michelle.
What has this to do with cancer, you may ask, although I'd think it was a bit cheeky of you if you did. It has this to do with it: Michelle is a two…
WARNING: CONTAINS VOMIT.
This is old news now but, as I've said before, there's no point in keeping a cancer blog if I don't keep it up to date. (There isn't much point to it either way, but let that pass.)
