Tuesday 14th December
Day 237
After our appointment with the consultant neurologist - my husband calls him Professor Duhickeybob because he can’t remember his name - we decide the news deserves lunch out. We drive to our favourite cafe expecting warm cheddar cheese tarts. It’s full up. A man offers us the spare seats at his table. I say no thanks.
It’s not the place to have a conversation about a future we can’t imagine yet. Better to go home and have pumpkin soup and muffins in the kitchen. And hold hands across the table.
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