….returns! Dr Socks is back! He didn’t go to Cromer in a caravan, neither did he sail between exotic tropical islands and sadly I don’t think he bought himself any commemorative holiday socks…but he’s back. I was quite surprised at how pleased I was to see him. Not in a weak at the knees in awe of the great doctor way, I don’t do that sort of thing. Besides, when you’ve been told of the entertaining antics of the off-duty version it’d be hard to be in awe and keep a straight face!! These unexpected feelings were probably because I’d been feeling more unsettled than I realised what with the last few weeks of ups and downs, the stay in hospital, the manky mouth and delays in treatment etc. Strange really as I have every faith in his team. Dr Tink’ is brilliant and I trust her judgement, sometimes I suppose it’s just nice to hear things from the Big Cheese. (No dubious connections between socks and cheese please!!) Anyway, now I feel happier, more confident and reassured. It’s also written in black and white on my notes that I’m not ready to be consigned to the bin yet! The plan of attack is to have another dose of Taxotere this week and hope that my improved liver function will “rinse” it out before it attacks my mouth too severely but not before it’s done its job. If all goes to plan then I can continue on a weekly dose. If it doesn’t then next out of the chemo cupboard will probably be Gemcitabine. Home we headed and as a reward for being so patient I spent some time teaching the Junior Bad Fairies the fine arts of playing poker. Okay, not poker, I never was any good at poker … I have to have a written list of what beats what because I can never remember. As for having a ’poker face’, no chance! We played Rummy and Trumps, very exciting I know but when you’re eight and nine it makes no difference what you play as long as you have a chance of beating Mum. Sadly they did and no I didn’t sulk, but they did have to do some bedroom tidying!
