What the doctor ordered
Mum's appetite has returned but for odd things. She breakfasted on yeuchy frogspawny tapioca accompanied by a steaming mug of Marmite. Mum and I then pushed off to the Royal Free Hospital. First to the blood test department, and then to visit oncology to pick up a special yellow slip with "urgent" stamped on it and then back for the actual blood test. Before returning to Oncology. I must say the staff were very friendly, and the patients seemed mostly cheery and upbeat too. There was even a young volunteer there who was handing out cups of tea as you waited.
Mum's doctor was pleasant, as was the chief colorectal nurse, which as job titles go leaves something to be desired. The doctor recommended another week off chemo before starting again, to get mum stabilised more. We all thought this was the right decision. Then Mum was sent up to Vascular Studies where a tetchy woman scanned Mum's ankle and confirmed that the slight swelling there wasn't a blood clot.
The whole business had only taken the morning, and so we were free to zoom off for lunch, snickering for the last time past a sign for the "Discharge Lounge", which sounds an appalling place. I was also pleased to leave as I was wearing my Skelly's monologues teeshirt that Sprinkles had made for me, with its dancing skeletons, which on reflection wasn't entirely the best choice to wear in a huge hospital.
Mum is craving saltiness at the moment (hence the cups of Marmite). So we ducked into ASK and Mum and I snacked into Stromboli and Vesuvio pizzas respectively. We enjoyed the hot and bright conservatory, with triffidish greenery pressing in against the windows.
Then back to Brighton. Feeling relieved that the right things, to my mind, had been done at the hospital. Nothing much happening on the work front, so I spent an hour pottering about in the front scrap of garden, deadheading roses and tidying the pelargoniums.
In the evening Anton and I went out for a few beers, which we'd not done in quite some time. Wandered happily about in Brighton and towards Hove, dropping in here and there (including at the keynote Eddy) to have a cheeky beers and talk about all kinds of nonsense, which was exactly what the doctor ordered.
Mum's appetite has returned but for odd things. She breakfasted on yeuchy frogspawny tapioca accompanied by a steaming mug of Marmite. Mum and I then pushed off to the Royal Free Hospital. First to the blood test department, and then to visit oncology to pick up a special yellow slip with "urgent" stamped on it and then back for the actual blood test. Before returning to Oncology. I must say the staff were very friendly, and the patients seemed mostly cheery and upbeat too. There was even a young volunteer there who was handing out cups of tea as you waited.
Mum's doctor was pleasant, as was the chief colorectal nurse, which as job titles go leaves something to be desired. The doctor recommended another week off chemo before starting again, to get mum stabilised more. We all thought this was the right decision. Then Mum was sent up to Vascular Studies where a tetchy woman scanned Mum's ankle and confirmed that the slight swelling there wasn't a blood clot.
The whole business had only taken the morning, and so we were free to zoom off for lunch, snickering for the last time past a sign for the "Discharge Lounge", which sounds an appalling place. I was also pleased to leave as I was wearing my Skelly's monologues teeshirt that Sprinkles had made for me, with its dancing skeletons, which on reflection wasn't entirely the best choice to wear in a huge hospital.
Mum is craving saltiness at the moment (hence the cups of Marmite). So we ducked into ASK and Mum and I snacked into Stromboli and Vesuvio pizzas respectively. We enjoyed the hot and bright conservatory, with triffidish greenery pressing in against the windows.
Then back to Brighton. Feeling relieved that the right things, to my mind, had been done at the hospital. Nothing much happening on the work front, so I spent an hour pottering about in the front scrap of garden, deadheading roses and tidying the pelargoniums.
In the evening Anton and I went out for a few beers, which we'd not done in quite some time. Wandered happily about in Brighton and towards Hove, dropping in here and there (including at the keynote Eddy) to have a cheeky beers and talk about all kinds of nonsense, which was exactly what the doctor ordered.
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