There's No Place Like...

...home. Home. HOME.

Hurrah. My own bed, my own toilet, my own dust... What could be better?

However, have just spent a couple of hours at Christies finding out what's in store for me next and its not going to be a picnic from here on in either. The side effects from the radio and chemo therapies can be difficult and painful. However, the radiotherapy consultant, whilst not promising anything and attaching all sorts of caveats, stated that he was "confident" of a cure. A cure. A fucking CURE. I think that means that I get to carry on living. I cried. I'm still crying.

Sorted things with Caroline today i.e. she admitted that I'd received crap service as she had no replacement whilst she was on leave. I told her how I felt. She's coming to the flat tomorrow to change my dressings. She also told me that its not unusual to get depressed for a couple of days after release from hospital as you start to relax. If I get maudlin on here I apologise now.

Now in charge of my own feeding times and administering painkillers which is fantastic. Not in charge of my own telly unfortunately as Aged Ps are still here and enjoying the snooker....

Have got various visits to Christies to make in the next few weeks before the radiotherapy kicks in so will be available for visits in that time (may need to restrict once the radiotherapy starts) so feel free to ring and arrange. I warn you though that I get very tired very quickly so don't bank on spending more than an hour or so and I won't be having loads of people all on the same night (you'll have to wait for September for that - theme "A Night at the Oper(ett)a" don't forget).

Anyway, more cheerful than sad at the moment and glad that I can finally stop clicking my heels together... J x