You know, I actually haven't any idea what the 'D' in D-Day stands for. Isn't that shameful? I assume I must've been told, at some point in the past fiftyveryodd years, but it's gone. Gone with the wind. (Even more shamefully, I could tell you the plot of that.)
Anyway, I think that E-Day would be more apposite: 'e' for 'evisceration', given how airily the consultant was rattling off his list…
My pratty brother Jeremy - the one who isn't speaking to me, for reasons which I have never quite figured out, largely because who the hell cares? - has just sent my nice brother Tim the following email, which Tim has forwarded on to me and Penny:
My dear mamma used to tell me that only boring people were bored. This is a painful thought; I must be positively stultifying, because, as things stand at present, I am pretty much climbing the walls - or I would be, if the walls in our house weren't made of cardboard, or close enough, and probably wouldn't take my weight. I'm thinking of poking out my own eyes just for the sake of something to do.
I still…
Hello, blog.
The last time we spoke, as you may remember, I had had a post-chemo check-up which had been indecisive, to say the least, as the oncology team hadn't then come to any real decision. However, then I had a phone call to say that they would like to do a second laparoscopy (funny things some people do for fun), to get a look inside my innards and see what's going on there. To judge by the way Crabby has…
