johnny9fingers: (Default)
In the midst of life...

My mother's neighbour, whom I had driven to the Royal Marsden every day for more than a month last year

http://johnny9fingers.livejournal.com/205013.html

had her six month check-up last week. Last Saturday my mother 'phoned and told me the cancer has returned. Steph is being given the option of the complete removal of her tongue and upper oesophagus, or her allotted six feet. Steph is a few months younger than me. She has been a stalwart friend to my mum since dad died, and prior to that was a good friend to the old man. She and her partner Ericka have been family friends for more than twenty years.

My guess is she'll opt for a managed end to it all. Being fed through a tube, unable to speak, and in constant pain may be unbearable.

I don't suppose it can get much worse for her, or for Ericka.

The rest of you, know yourselves lucky that this is not your fate: though ultimately we must all face the matter of our death, we may be fortunate in that our suffering will not be comparable to those who will die in great agony.

Go well and do good things.
johnny9fingers: (Default)
Okay.

Felix went to court yesterday.

The CPS barrister had evidently not had time to read the psychiatrist's report (which had only been delivered to him the day before) having been overwhelmed by his case load. Felix's barrister actually managed to apprise the CPS's chap of the essentials of the case, before the court session began.

Ergo, when it came to court, the charge was read out, Felix pleaded (not guilty, obviously), and the prosecution offered no evidence, and Felix was discharged without a blot on his escutcheon.

It was a bit of a waste of everyone's time and a deal of public money, and, I guess, it really didn't need to go as far as it did.

I'd managed to drop SWMBO at King's College Hospital at 9.00 and got to the Crown Court at 10.00: booted, suited, and ready to testify if required. Thankfully it wasn't required.

Steph just about managed the journey to the Royal Marsden without assistance, and doesn't have to return until September.

The parent's-in-law picked up the keys from a neighbour and busied themselves painting the nursery.

All in all, a set of wins for everyone.


Later last evening Marcus Malone sent me an email with an attachment of the song 'Would it Matter', which I wrote some twenty years ago, and which he has just recorded. It sounds pretty good, actually, though he called it 'Could it Matter'. What's a consonant between old chums, hey? Fortune favour him.

Go well and do good things.

Tomorrow...

Mar. 3rd, 2011 05:54 pm
johnny9fingers: (Default)
Tomorrow Poor Mad Felix goes to court at 10.00.

I shall be in the gallery, like Rose and Valerie, as the song says: but in the dock, poor Felix will stand alone.

This means I can't go with my six-month-pregnant wife when she gets her blood test at King's at 9.30. Nor can I take Steph to the Royal Marsden, for her cancer check-up after her chemotherapy at 10.00. Nor can I be at home to let my parents-in-law in when they come to paint the nursery, as they have promised, at 11.00.

I hate conflicting responsibilities, and hope I've got my priorities right. Bugger and damn. I wish I could bilocate or trilocate like some of the saints were reputedly able to do. Alas, I'm not able, and even if I were, I'd probably find some justification for bunking off all of my responsibilities and enjoying myself in all sorts of different ways simultaneously. Well, you would, wouldn't you?
johnny9fingers: (window)
Mike and Alexis are down. It shifts the burden and is always so welcome.
M very depressed at Dad's condition, but it's not as if any of us has a magic wand.
Swollen ankle-joints mean I can barely walk, and this despite anti-inflamatory drugs from my Doc. Wrists seem to have got slightly better. But told not to put any pressure or strain on them, so no practice. Buggering flu.
johnny9fingers: (Sri Yantra)
Having to type one handed as my left wrist appears to have packed up, and all movement hurts. This is not part of normal flu. Carpal Tunnel? Gout? Gawd knows. Dad is much the same - stable though slightly confused. Dammit. Will see doc sometime soon. Dammit. Flu still knocking me over as well. Bugger.

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