Well, well, and what a time of it! I am having my time of it, whilst many others are doing the whole time of it having thing in their own homes, around, hopefully, their own people. My people left this morning (just the one son, so, okay, person) who brought me home from pavements and noise and a couple of hospital appointments in his Lotus, a classic, very small, like a dot on any highway, but fast and safe. Apparently. I was lying down, as, to my alarm, was he. Mostly I watched sky because conversation was tricky. There was a deal of shout and many ‘whats?’ But he got me home. The peace that came as we coasted into the ferry queue was almost an embarrassment.

So, home again to the wee dog, beautifully cared for, and indulged and played with and walked and wotwot by my lovely friend, and the joy rises like a warm fire on a winter’s night. The smile of it takes me upstairs to, finally, unpack my few bits of frock and underpinnings, to a shower, to the familiar. The sounds of gulls heckling a sea-eagle, the cornflowers rising like hope outside the window, the grass green and ebullient; the view across the sea-loch. Warmth beneath my feet, food in the fridge, clean sheets, a new beginning, for me. For my son too, I guess. For all my children too. Cancer is a cut in a life, a shock with ripples, like an ice cream, or a cocktail, and it is both, or can be.

Since I heard I had cancer, I have heard many stories. It seems to me that nobody talks about it in the street. It wonders me. Is illness, such as this, embarrassing, or shameful? Or, is it that we, (god bless the british) never want to inconvenience anyone, say anything that might make them feel awkward on a Monday pavement outside of Aldi? I completely get that some people don’t want anyone to know because they want to work it themselves and just telling anyone means they are obliged to keep the information coming. I respect that. But, and but again, I feel a challenge coming at me. Not to those aforesaid. No. But to those who want to say how they feel about losing a part of them they depended on for years, and, more, that part that didn’t necessarily give the heads up on ‘Something Wrong Here’. Such a shock. And that shock has outwaves, biwaves, tsunamiwaves. These can shock on for days, months, years. And the Cancer One knows this. No matter how she or he tidies it all away, how serious the (lost the word) thing is, it is an impact, infecto of dreams, a stealer of thoughts, sleep, decisions, movement through any day.

I await the results of my MRI scan, but spoke with my surgeon yesterday. He says, it looks good, just a lumpectomy. A few more checks, an ultrasound, then it is done.

I’ll go with that.