onwards and upwards

The climax of the last, thrilling episode saw me stood, in the rain, in a remote corner of a hospital car park with the dramatic Eastenders closing music playing.

I did what I normally do in these circumstances and called my therapist. He’s a lovely chap who sits on a wooden bench in the beer garden of the Pear Tree hostelry (‘Where Progress Is Measured In Pints’) clutching a pint of Hooky Gold. His pint glass is always half full. Obviously.

His helpful advice for my quandry was as direct and helpful as ever – ‘Pull yourself together, you soft get’.

‘But, hang on, that’s easy for you to say – what about my two questions ?’

‘Oh those questions, right – I’ll help you out there. Firstly “‘How did you get here ?”. Well you walked which is more then some of those people back in the hospital who are confined to wheelchairs can do, so count yourself bloody lucky’.

As for ‘Where does this end up ?’ – well 2012 may see the following events:-

  • GB top the medals table at the London Olympics.
  • England win Euro 2012 beating Germany 4-2 in the final.
  • Manchester United pip local rivals, City, for the Premiership on goal difference in the final game of the season.
  • These blog posts are collated into a best selling e-book that goes viral. You become an overnight Internet sensation and a multi-millionaire.
  • You emerge victorious and find yourself participating in a sponsored rickshaw ride for a bowel cancer charity from London to Cairo accompanied by 80’s pop singer Kim Wilde, snarling Fall frontman Mark. E. Smith and roly poly Christopher Biggins.

Now be honest – which of of those scenarios is most likely to come to pass ? – the last one of course so stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back in there.

Buoyed and encouraged by this, I walked back into the hospital and retraced my steps to the ward where the lovely Irish nurse hooked me up for IV antibiotics. I got to order my ham and cheese sandwich, chatted to my friends in the chemotherapy room and dipped into ‘The Stephen Fry Chronicles’.

Later that afternoon, a room on the ward became free and, feeling like a fraud (as I felt perfectly healthy), I reluctantly took up residence for the next five days. At the weekend, I managed to negotiate day release to get home after lunch and return at night to accommodate my thrice daily 30 second injections and various medical observations.

The IV antibiotics worked their magic and chemotherapy session 2 was resumed the following Wednesday after just a weeks delay.

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