A good weekend

The weekend and no trips to the hospital. I didn’t realise how depressed I was becoming until we had a break. This weekend was particularly good as Jonathan was able to come down on a visit. We didn’t really know whether he’d be able to make it as he might have been filming a story for BBC's Watchdog. Maybe it was the visit, maybe it was that an end is in sight for the radiotherapy, but I had more energy this weekend. A good job really as Jonathan is really fond of home-cooked food.

Actually he is a very good cook himself and whenever we visit him in London, he takes a lot of trouble over cooking for us. Also he has suggested that he cooks a number of dishes for Raymond which we can freeze when I am in hospital. It’s not that Raymond can’t cook but he is going to be doing a lot of travelling and this will make it easier for him. There is also something very psychologically good about having a meal specially cooked for you. When I am I hospital the danger will be that the focus of attention will be on me and no one will understand how difficult it is going to be for Raymond.

I genuinely feel that the week ahead will be a turning point as far as knowing about my treatment. If this is the case, then we shall be able to plan much more effectively. It has been so difficult constantly telling people that my hospitalisation has been deferred yet again.

My mother told me quite firmly that I must not risk visiting her when there are germs about. She is quite obviously worried about what is to come. As she has some problems with her short-term memory she asks me to go over what the schedule is going to be. It is going to be hard for her when I can’t visit. She is such a determined lady that I hope I have inherited some of this quality to see me through

Tomorrow is my last day of radiotherapy. Some people have it for considerably longer than I have and many come over from the Channel Islands; that must be so difficult. Actually up to a few years ago they used to stay in Netley Castle while they were having their radiotherapy and our choir used to visit them at Christmas for carols in the Great Hall. I remember vividly robing in the Billiard Room with winds and sea-spray lashing against the windows.